Gun For Hire
by Hound424
Summary: Lincoln's disappearance was just part of many. The Black-Pox pandemic is over, and Lost Cause has given a new meaning of terror. Nations and their cities are relentlessly attacked. Hundreds killed in any given time. Melody is here to help. They strike, destroy, and instill fear on all. Without getting paid of course. Five years later, Lincoln's back. And he has a wife! And a son!
1. chapter 1

**This is a rewrite of the original story, which I deleted.** **The original was actually a prototype of sorts.**

 **Don't own anything except oc's and plot.**

 **In a decade from today, where this story takes place. The world we know has changed. Technology has grew. Drone technology has become a stable of the ever growing power and feuds of the first world and black market nations.**

 **Nothing last forever...change is inevitable...**

 **As the story continues, Lincoln will have to meet those he hasn't seen in five years: Family, old friends, etc.. He must confront the past and manage his war against the evils and scum of mankind, even protecting said scum so he can support himself, his lovely wife, and their son.**

 **This takes place in an alternate history**

 **Now! Story time...**

 **~oOo~**

 **Dallas, Texas**

 **Parkland Hospital**

 **2022**

Pain. Extreme, excruciating pain. The only thing Lincoln can feel as his lovely wife crushes his hand, nearly turning the bones into powdered dust. On his knees, close to screaming out loud from this torture, instead letting out a silent cry of pure agony as tiny tears form in the corner of his eyes. A nurse patting his head in sympathy, something she has seen before many times before throughout her years in this hospital, but that doesn't stop her from feeling bad for the teenage father-to-be. Though, his wife is in worse pain—but hey! This hurts too!

 **CRUNCH!**

Wheezing out a silenced, "Aaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuggghh" and it's broken folks...

The nurse bent down and whispered in his ear, "We'll fix that later." She patted his shoulder and went back with the Doctor.

Quietly, he listened to her screams of pain, and the doctor giving her orders to continue pushing. Memories soon flashed through his mind from where it all started. From when they met at Sadie Hawkins all those years ago, the forest, what they shared with the other, him breaking up with Ronnie, said latina's wicked punch and kick to his jewels as she continued to pummel him, but he just took it. Lori literally driving all the way from college and tearing him a new one for breaking his ex's heart. The two years—the best two years of his life. The news...he wasn't gonna lie...he was terrified, but determined. Then it all fell apart...guess they weren't accepting...so much yelling—too much yelling...all that noise, then when Lynn called his love a whore...he lost it...they didn't even know who she was...he was done...now here we are...

"That's it! One more push!" With a final cry of pain a wail can be heard, a baby's wail of life.

The force went away when she went limp from exhaustion, but by then...it was like the pain in his hand wasn't even present in the first place. Getting up on his feet, Lincoln took a few quick steps towards the doctor holding his child. Looking him over with a small smile, he motioned the newborn to the teenaged father. That look. Seen it so many times, but it'll never get old to the professional; the look of a newly made parent. Those wide eyes, shaky hands, and weak knees with his mouth agape and closing every few seconds, trying to come up with words.

Chuckling, "It's a boy." Bringing out a pair of scissors, "Want to cut tha' cord?"

Nodding dumbly, he gripped the surgical tool, and with the doctors instructions, placed it right were the cord was attached. The nurse from before rolled her eyes with a smile of amusement when she saw he was fumbling, still shaking like a leaf, even the newly made mother gave out a weak laugh as she watched her husband try and panic.

 **SNIP**

"Congratulations, Mr. Loud. I think your wife should hold him since I fear you might drop him." He gave the teen an apologetic stare, but he's not wrong, kid's like a chihuahua right now, and who can blame him?

Lincoln nodded, trailing behind the older man like a lost puppy. Seating himself close to her as she takes their baby into her arms. A smile grows in her usual neutral features. He loves her smiles, and her laughs. What he loves about them is that it's rare for her to do so. Exceptfor him. She will always smile for him, and now for...him. Looking down at the squirming child, resting on his mothers bosom, his cries have finally ceased.

 _'A boy...'_

He's not gonna lie: he was actually expecting a girl. Thought he inherited his family's _luck_ on having any sons...but...here you go...in life...things just happen...now he doesn't regret a thing.

In a few moments, he knows he will have to make a decision, one that would change everything. For months now he thought it over, and now—right now...he's ready. Craning his head over to her face, she told him she will stand beside him the entire time. She always kept her promises and so will he.

"What?" She caught his stare. Her exhaustion visible as sweat continues to roll down her pale—paler— than usual skin.

Lincoln just smiled as he moved his hand, the unbroken one, and cupped her cheek. In response she nuzzled in closer into his palm, letting out a sigh of relief as she closed her eyes from exhaustion, smiling lovingly at the infant also resting with her. Running his fingers through her black locks, he also looked down upon their newborn son.

"He's beautiful." Lincoln nodded dumbly, again.

"Yeah...he is." Immediatly he leaned himself foreward, catching her lips into his, both melted into the love as the nurse giggled from behind, accompanied by the doctors chuckles as well.

Looking into her dark orbs, "I love you, Harriet."

"I know...as well as I."

Both sixteen year old parents already discussed what they would name their child if he or she was born and with no moment to waste...

"Welcome to the world, Logan," Lincoln cooed, carefully gripping his sons tiny hand. He felt he could take on the world now. As of this second he promised to fight anything or anyone who dares to try to bring harm upon his family. He would be damned if any sick fuck dares to touch his child in the way one shouldn't.

Huh...so this is what it's like to be a parent...weird...

They both know this is the easy part, the true obstacle they must come to tackle is what comes next, the future as a whole...and that scares him.

As if she could sense his fear, Harriet placed her hand on top of his as he continued to slowly rub his sons little limb. "It's ok. We're going to be ok," she reassured him, seeing he really needed it. She can't blame him, these months have been completely stressful, but they weren't alone, she's extremely glad her uncle was the only one there to help them. He even gave her love the offer they both had discussed for and agreed it was his choice and his only. She would be with him the entire time.

"Yeah," he nodded, taking another breath of much needed air. "I'm just...I don't even know what to tell ya'."

She was about to say something until another, familar, voice stopped her.

"God, you sound like my brother after Maggie was born." All, sans Logan, turn their heads towards the tall, imposing older man standing in the doorway busy scratching his beard while gazing towards the little ankle biter in his nieces arms with a smile of approval and pride.

 _'I'm gonna spoil the shit out of that kid.'_ Was the older mans only thought as he first came in.

The nurse frowned at him since he was not allowed in here. "Sir, I do not believe you should be he-"

Harriet interrupted her. "It's ok."

"Mrs. Loud, you kno-"

"Haiku."

"Excuse me?"

"Please, call me Haiku."

"O-ok..." The nurse pointed towards the man as the doctor shrugged and didn't care at the moment. "Who is this person?"

Haiku answered simply. "My uncle." The nurse made a 'ohh' expression as she soon became apologetic but they waved it off seeing no harm in it at all. Though he asked if they could have some privacy, seeing how they're family and all.

The doctor agreed, not really having a problem at all. "Sure, but make it quick, we've got to check for any problems with him soon." Motioning towards the infant.

Nodding, "Don't worry it'll be quick, I swear." The door closed shut, leaving the small family with perfect privacy, Haiku's uncle stepped towards her as he brought his finger and stroked the cheek of the infant, a small, yet noticeable smile soon shown itself.

Facing his niece, "Mind if I hold him?"

Haiku shook her head and handed her son to him, "Not at all."

"Hey little buddy." His smile grew. "So, Logan huh?" Already knowing since he was there when they decided the names for the kid, finds it a little strange on why so heavy on the L's for Link's family. "The hells with your family and L's man?"

Lincoln just shrugged, not even having an answer himself.

"Eh, whatever. Logan's a good name anyway." Looking over to his niece, he let loose a few chuckles causing the gothic mother to raise an eyebrow. "What's so funny?" She asked

Still keeping his smile, "Nothing little bat. Just, heh, find it funny that someone who always talks about the beauty and sweet release of death, just brought in life."

Haiku didn't know how to respond, instead she chose to smile as she found it entertaining as well, closing her eyes as she sighed from all this.

Lincoln was concerned when he heard her sigh. "You ok?"

"Just tired love...giving birth does that to anyone."

Link nodded, turning his attention to the man holding his newborn child. "Marcus."

"The kid who got my beautiful niece pregnant." He responded with a matter-of-fact tone accompanied with a thin smile that seemed to grow when the kid stepped back a bit as he remembered the last time this man told him that.

Dark alleys man...scary...

Haiku groaned, "Ugh, uncle, please. Let it go. You already choked him when he met you."

Link flinched when she said that as painful memory resurfaced as well as some sort of phantom pain as he swore he felt familar, callous ridden, invisible hands crushing his windpipe.

The male Loud, well the older male Loud, not the kid...anywho, where the fuck—Oh ya!

Marcus responded with a light chuckle as he also rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand from that in the moment action he did to the kid a couple months ago. Hey! Don't judge. Any guy would choke the bastard that got his favorite niece prego'. But now? He respects the teen. It takes a real man—someone with a spine—to man up and accept reality, take responsibility, fight with that tiny fire that has begun to grow brighter and hotter as he takes on the world.

Enough about that. Now comes the bigger matter at hand at the current moment.

He gave the teen-father an option, a really good one at that, when it comes to money and gaining new skills, but he'll have to commit to actions that no sane person would want to even witness. Be a foreigner in a foreign land, payed to fight their wars and other maddening bullshit governments can't fix with their armies.

Plus with the shitstorm and hell with Lost Cause, cartels and other terrorist cells under their strings as LC plays puppeteer around the 2nd and 3rd world. Fuckers even gained support in the 1st world, alongside with the other aftermath shitstorms from the virus all those years ago...

That's the fun thing about life—well, not really fun to most as they would see it as complete, utter, horse shit 'cause nothing goes their way. FYI dipshit: Life doesn't give a fuck on what you want.

But you do got choices and the freewill to choose said choice.

The laughter ceased as Marcus adopted a serious expression, one that spoke of no bullshit, zero game, one strong enough that the air around them all seemed to change as if they were in a board meeting deciding on a deal that would decided the fate of the company. But this decides the fate of their lives or more importantly: the father, mother, and their little bundle.

"So, you thought about it?"

Lincoln nodded, Logan squirmed a bit, his eyes watched his child moves as Marcus continued.

"This is not a hard choice. I'm not even going to pressure you-"

"I know." Haiku watched the exchange. That's all she can do.

Marcus shifted Logan so he can be comfortable under his great uncles grasp. "Then you also know that if you do chose to follow this path you'll be saying goodbye to a lot of things." He clenched his left fist as he gazed towards the clean, white floors. "You'll also lose a piece of yourself..."

"I know." Lincoln clenches his fist as well as he doesn't need this crap, he already weighed his options, seen and comprehended what would most likely happen. Then why in hell is the guy who gave him this opportunity, willing to pull strings, so opposed, right now, on letting him join.

Shaking his head, he had enough of this. "Look man, I know, ok." Raising his voice as it cracked a bit, almost waking Logan from his sleep. "I thought about it and what other options do I have? Huh? What do I—what can I even do out there?" He points out the window, towards the city of downtain Dallas. Marcus sits their impassive as he rants, while Haiku listens as well with her normally neutral expression turned into one of concern, but also with a hint of understanding. "I'm 16 years-old and I never had a job. None." He would have yelled but he kept his composure, as hard as it is, for his son. "Even if I could somehow find a way to join the military, it's like you said; they'll just throw me away like they did you," Marcus's right eye twitched a bit from that reminder. "No one would give a single fuck about me out there...no one will want to hire a kid...a fuck up..." Turning his full attention to the man with eyes of thanks. "You helped me—helped us...with all of this. You gave me a choice and are willing to do so much for me, and yet, you don't even know me well at all, and I'm thankful for that," He sniffs as he tries to hold in tears. "I...I didn't get to finish Highschool...my family..." He shakes his head as he places his hands on his face with a massive sigh of exasperation. "Fuck..."

Haiku felt like it was her fault. A feeling that has come and gone during the months of her pregnancy; no matter how many times her beloved tells her it isn't she feels it is. She too had to give up many things. What her husband said next brought her another reason to love him more than ever and fight with him through this life of hers. Maybe it's time to add a little more light in her darkness.

"Heh." He lets out a chuckle that caused Marcus to raise an eyebrow. "And you know what?...I'm actually ok with it. I'm...happy." He moves towards Harriet. "I got to meet the girl I can spend my life with, confide my inner demons and hell with...someone I can call the mother of my child." She started to cry. He leans over to her as he moves her black locks away. "Someone I love no matter what happens." He leans in as his lips meet hers, she accepts his actions as she returns the lip lock tenfold. "I Love you."

She closes her eyes, leans her forehead on his, and whispers once more. "I know."

He stands straight as he starts to walk up to Marcus. Meeting the man, but his attention was on the baby, the older man handed over the boy to his father. Lincoln could only stare down with pride at his creation.

"And someone I can call my son." He cranes his head so his lips can meet the infants forehead.

Soon, both older males stared at each other as the younger one finishes what he needed to say. Marcus closes his eyes with a smile adorning his lips as he nods his head, he respects the kid, said once but needed to be said again. He knows his great nephew will be alright with someone like his father and mother, though there will be chaos. That's for sure when having a kid, especially one who's the offspring of video game, comic nerd and a gothic poet.

Ahh~life...

Marcus stands up, walks up to Lincoln and puts both hands ontop of his shoulders, staring deep into his blue eyes, yet the teen doesn't waver at all from the older mans harsher orbs. He nods once more.

"Alright. Welcome to Melody."

 **~oOo~**

 **5 years later...**

 **Manchester, England**

 **2027**

 **Traffic sucks...**

No matter where you go, traffic is traffic, be it American or British, the right side of the road or the left, simply put it sucks, and it'll never go away. First world problems.

Besides the constant boredom of individuals wanting to get home from be it work, school, or the pub with the mates, you also got the usual, never ending, mind damning honking and slurs of "Oye! Hurry tha' fock up!" More yelling and raising of the middle fingers as assholes and bitches try to start random shit with equally random strangers. Stupid, yes, but a great way to vent out the stress of the day and the current shit they are wanting to flee from. But to one individual, all he sees are parasites and victims from what comes next. Nothing but a message for the world as he awaits patiently, glancing at his watch.

5 minutes~

Hours ago all hell broke loose as sections of the city were put under lockdown from the sudden firefights and randomized victims of hot metal spewing from assault rifles, pistols, and shotguns. Resulting in a one-sided battle of the local police and firearm units falling victim in seconds, intestines butcherd and turned to mush as the bullets rape their bodies, leaving newer fuck holes. Almost like puppets on the string being pulled by a man in the middle of a severe seizure, just add lots of red paint.

He knows it's a matter of time before the S.A.S gets to them...he has to do this fast, clean, simple, and precise.

3 minutes~

Unbuckling his seatbelt, and placing the truck on park, he stpes out of the vehicle. Ignoring the honks and "What the fock mate?!" And many, many confused states as he made no room for the drivers to continue or even turn different lanes from the fact it's already painfully crowded.

Standing on the lane divider a sleak, navy blue, sports bike sped up and stopped infront of him. The driver handing him a helmet as he got on and held on tight. They were out of sight as he hit accelerate; speeding past all of it, no way in hell were they going to be caught in that mess.

1 minute~

Shit just happens. Bad things happen all the time... to everyone, plain and simple. Kinda like death. It's gonna happen to all of us, but we fear it. Why fear something you haven't experienced yet? It's funny really...we're the only species on this planet that know it's going to happen, while all the other creatures are blissfully unaware of the impending clock that would countdown to zero...heh'...lucky fucks.

All of us can agree the best way to go is as a wrinkly old bag in our sleep, but most aren't as lucky. Like said before: shit happens. It may seem unfair—which it is— but you got to understand; life doesn't simply give a fuck, nothing's fair. You die slowly, painfully, or don't feel anything at all. Be it young, old, or, as depressing as this sounds, as an infant...sometimes in the womb itself.

30 seconds~

Maybe it'll be fast for these people...maybe.

20 seconds~

People will always die for a lost cause...always.

10 seconds~

Blame the world, they started this war after all.

5...4...3...2...May God have mercy...1...

And like that, all hell broke loose...

The explosion itself was strong, forceful, it destroyed everything it touched with ease, like it was not even a challenge. Everything burned. The couple tons of high explosives did their job splendidly, throwing cars away as the mechanical vehicles met the fires and melted from the outside and within, taking many with them. Those walking were soon running, screaming, ducking for whatever cover there is, debris from neighboring buildings caught from the blast crushing them, the lucky ones died fast, others are slowly wasting away from internal bleeding from the crushing force. Windows shatterd from the massive vibrations, slicing away at victims sprinting for haven.

Fire...so much fire. Death...everywhere. Left behind from the fury was the lingering smell of still burning flesh, sobs, cries of help, endless ash acting as snow, husks of cars and other vehicles, so much blood as detached limbs were left still, leaking away the red liquid that brings us life.

Permanent fear, disarray, pure human wreckage from simple human violence.

Long live Lost Cause...

 **The horror...**

 **Some random news reporter...**

 **Broadcasting in thousands of random tv's...**

 **"Dear god..."** Those are the two words that are needed to be said as the news copter pilot gazed down upon the smoking ruins of the attack that caused all this. They thought the firefight earlier in the southside of the city was all, but now this. The camera zoomed closer, giving a perfect, but semi-shaky, view of a woman holding her detached left arm with her bleeding right, her expression blank, no doubt shock. Lost as a puppy who was abandoned by its master, she wandered to wherever the path was clear. Of course this should be censored for the viewers, but it's live. Plus...the world needs to see this.

The scene shifts to a reporter looking directly at the cameras as she was given the go ahead from her colleagues, **"We just got conformation that this attack was orchestrated from, without a doubt, the nefarious international organization known as Lost Cause as Firearm units and local police were able to apprehend members. Each identified to have affiliation with LC."** Giving the cameraman the go ahead, he moved his live recording tool, allowing the audience to witness the masses of civilians gathered around as the police are seen telling them to stand back.

Back to her, **"We've also just learned that the car bombing from earlier wasn't the only one, as three were identified. Luckily, one was stopped before it set off, sadly...they weren't so lucky for this one,"** she said somberly. Shaking her head as she recollected herself. **"The final truck is still at large-"** she was interrupted from the screaming and immense noise as the people pointed at the source.

 **Another day at work...**

 **Manchester underground subway system...**

A multitude of bodies, both civilian and terrorist alike, lay strewn and lifeless upon the bloodied cement floors where many would idly await the next incoming railway transport towards their destination, but with the words: **CANCELED** , underneath each destination of the board where one can simply look at the time of their ride, no ones going anywhere.

Back against the wall as he breathed heavily from the nagging fear and adrenaline coursing through his being, watching his fellow comrades fall one by one like useless dolls. Ak in hand. He thought of his options, yet it all ends with him dead. Taking a quick peek, he studied his adversaries and soon to be executioners.

 _'Melody,'_ Gritting his teeth as his face snarled in anger at these mercs ruining everything. How did they know? How weren't they informed of these guns for hire?! The black and white colored figures drew closer. Fuck it! Fuck it all! He was going to die, but he was going to die blasting away.

Quickly rising from cover with a new resolve: Die fighting! Never die a coward! Roaring along with his weapon as he opened fire, "FOR LOST CAUS-"

 **'BRATATA!'**

Hey...at least he had balls. Convulsing from the rounds from a single shooter, tearing his entire being apart, hand still on his trigger, letting loose a couple more rounds up in the air, he fell dead on the floor.

Melody made Corey assault rifle smoking, the merc laid down his weapon to rest as the entirety of the scum causing this chaos plaguing the city are finally wasted. Last is the driver.

One individual stood amongst them, no doubt their leader. Garbed in the same iconic colors of Melody: black and white, along with the organization created MCU( Melody Combat Uniform.) His chest is covered by the black bullet resistant ceramic absorption vest, white short sleeve shirt underneath, displaying his scarred arms and tattoos, black waterproof and light layered liquid armor coated cargo pants, with white knee/leg guards, even arm guards with a tactical touch screen pad on his left forearm his hands covered in equally whitefingerless gloves. And the final touches, black all terrain combat boots, Melody's well known and own unique combat helmet dubbed the Opera helmet. Advanced H.U.D display and various other optical imaging, honeycomb patterned visor, white coloration from the outside with black marks and the words **'Why Hello.'** On the right side of said helmet. Last is the black armband with a white eighth note in the center.

His form oozed a sense/feel of authority and control as he observed the mess, his helmet moving inch by inch to the right, until, they were alerted by an accented yell:

"Oye! Put 'em down!"

Weapons drawn, aimed, and ready to spew fire, but the tension dispelled as the two groups got a good look at the other. The black clothed and gas mask wearing members of the S.A.S relaxed as they saw who it was, as well as the members of Melody. Pushing through, the Brit in charge made himself known as he asked who's in charged of the merc's.

The 'Why Hello' guy responded. "I am, but we got to hurry."

His voice was...familar...painfully so, but muffled.

Puzzled. "How come?"

Showing off his Tac-pad as an orange line can be seen speeding through digital lay out of the city, finally it dawned on the captain. "Shite." Immediately turning to his men, "Let's go boys! We got a truck ta stop!" Turning back to the merc in charge. "Where to?"

Moving past him, "Up in the surface. Follow my lead." Taking his word, all the gun wielders, both merc and military specialist, combined their groups for the upcoming speedy devil that's going to have a nice suprise awaiting his or her ass.

Meeting the light of the surface, a little suprised by the multitude of bystanders pointing and examine them all, some, of course, if not all, had their cameras out, recording or taking pictures. The police were doing their best of keeping them away, the sight of these armored individuals was intimidating, yes, but also reassuring.

"Get them the fock back!" The S.A.S captain ordered as he took aim, crouching in one knee once he was pointed where to shoot, the others following his lead. They didn't need to be told twice. The civvies did what they were told-the smart ones, the dumb ones tried to get a closer look.

"Here it comes!" A Melody grunt hollered out as they were soon met with the sight of a speeding truck containing high explosives in the back, the driver not stopping even a bit.

With his weapon aimed, finger on the trigger, the merc in charged took a slow breath, _'Show time..'_

"OPEN FIRE!" He commanded.

A hailstorm of bullets roared throughout the street as they muffled the panicked screams and yelps of civies from the back, even the police joined in as they took aim and fired on the vehicle of impending death. Many of the civvies ran for it.

Dented, torn, ripped and shatterd were the only words to describe the damage from the hot copper and lead flying and ravaging the trucks hide. With the front tires torn apart to the point where it was just the rims showing, no rubber, the driver lost control, tipping over and finally falling on its side, skidding as it lost momentum. Just a few feet from the soldiers, merc's, and cops. Rifles still aimed as they took careful steps forward.

The passenger door opens with the driver weakly climbing out, letting out the occansial gag. The Lost Cause member pushed himself out of the wreckage of the once working vehicle. Blood dripping from his lower jaw; most likely broken from the fact the only words that come out are slurred gargles and gasps of more blood flying, mixed with saliva.

 **'BAM!'**

His brains spilt out as do his skull fragments that hit the ground first before the very important organ that allows us to function pratically everything and comprehend.

"Nice shot." With that said and done, the calmness returned as the adrenaline went away from each one of them. Bringing himself to the merc in charge, the S.A.S captain took out his hand and held it to the other male. "Perry Quill, thanks for the assist."

Looking down, he returned the favor, shaking his hand with a firm grip. "Lincoln..."

With a slight nod, Perry called back his team, walking away from the mercs.

As his men and women conversed amongst themselves, Link walked over to a metal bench just calling to him. With a groan of relief as his ass met the public seat his attention was pulled towards a building with a giant poster, in it, a familar sheila.

She really has grown into a fine young woman. Though crazy and wild, but that was always her thing after she found her rockin' passion back in the day. With her tongue sticking out, a happy grin, white face paint and purple mascara, and a rockin outfit to go along with it.

 _'Man...Leni really went all out on that one... Well when you have a fashion designer for a sister it tends to help out...'_ He's proud of her, of both of them. They made it far, their dreams are a reality. Hell, even chuckles and the athlete made it far on their own. He's seen the formers videos, still as puny as before, just a bit more mature. For the latter? Well, just check out the last Olympics of 2024.

To bad he couldn't be there to see it come to fruition...

...Oh well...

Leaning his head back with a groan of exhaustion.

"Time to go home..."

 **Time flies...**

 **Loud House**

 **Royal Woods, Michigan**

Even throughout the years as time continues to pass this is still, and will be, the loudest house in Royal Woods. Though, even if some members left, some, it's still quite crowded and full of Louds, specifically in the female gender department as the only male stuck between all that estrogen is the patriarch himself, Lynn Loud Sr.

It's been five years, yet things have gotten better...slowly. The Louds, now older, have adjusted to this new chapter of their lives, even though some, if not all are still having a tough time because of his abrupt leave, caused by some not so savorary choice of words, anger and what's considered the largest argument the family ever had. The type of arguemnent that has the power to sever ties...and it did, just for the other younger male. Truthfully they were all in the right and the wrong.

No note, no clue, just plain old nothing. He just left. Simple as that. Even took Bun-Bun with him.

Now we can find a little girl, maybe around ten or eleven or so, looking straight at the tv, ignoring the commotion that is her family. Her mind was glued to the scenes of wreckage, police and paramedics quickly at work; the former leading aprehended terrorist in cuffs away from the public, weapons drawn on the scum incase there's a struggle, while the latter rush towards the wounded civvies or carry away the sheet covered deceased.

 **'Manchester Bleeding'**

That is the headline for this tragic attack that has been thrust upon their British cousins.

 **"The surprise attack on Manchester by the infamous, current terrifying foe to the world that is Lost Cause, has resulted into a multitude of death and total destruction."** The little girl gasped from fright as the images panned to blood stained streets mixed in with what looks like spent bullet casings. The reporter continued after he cleared his throat. **"At least 50 gunmen, all armed with fully automatic weapons, opened fire in the busy streets hours ago. Initiating the first phase of the attack. It's estimated over 103 people were shot dead, and over 77 wounded. 20 of which were police."** The scene shifted to the captured terrorists from before, now apprehended and herded into secure police vans. **"Out of the 50 LC members, only 14 were captured, while the rest were shot down. No doubt they will never see the light of day again."**

The scene shifted towards a mess of burnt to still burning vehicles, flipped and torn apart, raging fires being battled by firefighters as they hose them down the best they can **. "Out of the 3 vans filled to the brim with explosives, only one was, unfortunately, detonated, as you all can...plainly see."** Lily could only feel sorrow for all those who've died and are currently suffering the aftermath of hell. **"As of right now the death toll has reached over 60, yet officials have yet to cease their search as more bodies are still found."**

Once more, the images switched to an overturned vehicle, riddled with bullets, searched throughly by professional individuals. **"On a lighter note, what seems to be a joint effort of both British S.A.S and Melody contractors have led to the complete halt of what would've been another horrid attack of an explosive hell..."**

Lily will never understand why people would do this to others. It's disgusting. She cannot even imagine what can drive someone to take a life, even the mere thought of hurting another made her sick.

 **"Melody chairman and daughter of the previous CEO, Jasmine Note, has given her condolences towards the families and those who's lost their lives from this tragic event. Stating that whatever it takes, Melody will stop at nothing until Lost Cause is fully and utterly destroyed."** Flipping through his papers. " **As of right now over fifteen members of Cause have been caught in one of their now identified recruiting centers of Malaysia in the capital of Kuala Lumpur."**

"Lily, time for school!" Lily immedialty turned off the tv and rushed over to her older siblings, preferably Lucy, since she's the one driving her, the twins, and Lisa to school.

 **Time to relax...**

 **Dallas, Texas**

 **215 Bel-Hop dr.**

Handing the cab driver a couple bills for the ride, slinging his duffle bag, and with parting wave that was no doubt ignored, Lincoln turned his attention towards the humble, two story home of his...for another day as the **'For Sale'** sign on the front was proudly displayed to any hopeful takers.

Chuckling a bit when he caught the sight of dried up paint splatters, a vast array of colors, collided together, creating a mess all over the back of the sign. The 21 year old couldn't help to shake his head with a smile on his lips. "That boy. Well, at least it isn't the garage door this time." There's no greater chore for a father than scraping off dry paint as the hot sun cooks his pale flesh. Well it's his fault for giving the kid a paintball gun...

With his smile never wavering, Link unlocked the front door of his small families abode, waltzing into the living room. Carefully shutting the door, so he won't disturb anyone and keep his presence unknown for right now. He was caught off guard as he heard the muffled groan of what seems to be frustration accompanied by the crumpling noise of paper being tossed away. Already knowing who's frustration that belongs to he carefully tiptoed towards the dining room, and low and behold there she was. What he refers as the love of his life, the mother of his child, or simply his wife...Haiku Loud.

Her perfect back was facing his face, her dark hair covered the top portion of her wooden seat, slouched down as she held her hands to her face, muttering on how she could do better. Link never really understood what it took to be a writer as he picked up the gun than a pencil, but from the way she's looking he can tell it's nowhere near the definition of easy.

That didn't stop her though.

Slowly placing his bag on the floor, making sure zero noise was emitted. Carefully, he stalked towards her, the years of training prepared him to be as silent as a ghost, as lethal as a cobra waiting to strike upon its prey. Hands outstretched as he reached for her sides...

"You've gotten better, but not good enough." He froze...damn it...well at least he tried. For years he's been trying to scare her, but with zero results everytime.

Sheepishly returning to his full height, the 21-year-old woman stood as well, though nowhere as tall as her husband. Link got a good look at her, no matter how many times a day he sees her in person or through video calls, her beauty will always stun him for a few seconds as he takes it all in. Her ghostly, pale skin, soft to the touch. The first thing he did was to run his fingers over her midnight locks, something she enjoyed as she leaned towards him. God...so soft...so silky. He loves her hair, her personality— he loves her. It's hard to believe that she and him had even got together in the first place, but like said before: shit happens...

Looks like today she isn't wearing a dress. Not that it matters. Just a simple pair of jeans as black as her hair, a dark purple t-shirt, both hugged her lovely form well. And to top it all off: a dual pair of black and purple striped pattern gothic arm warmers, covering the entirety of her forearms. No shoes, just barefoot.

To others she would rarely, to even, smile, unless it contains some of her interests, but for her husband and son? She would always have one ready. It may not be overly large, or show any teeth, but it still holds the love she has.

He finally wrapped his arms around her.

"Welcome home, my love."

Link craned his head down so he could capture her lips with his. She returned the favor. But all good things must come to an end as they had to depart for a bit of air.

Haiku detached herself from his arms, leaving him a bit puzzled as to why, but she reassured him with another smile flashed towards him.

"As much as I enjoy your embrace, my love. I believe someone else wants to have his turn with you."

Realization hit him. How could he forget? Clearing his throat, cupping both his hands and spinning on his heel so he can face the living room, where the stairs lead to the second floor.

"Logan, I'm home!" Not even a few seconds and the sounds of pitter patter of little feet echoed. It was so fast like a blur, Lincoln barely had time to react from the young male voicing his excitement.

"DAAAAAAAAAAD!"

"UFFFF!" Lincoln gasped out from the speeding bullet of a hug he's been receiveing everytime he comes home, but it'll never get old, he enjoys each one the same. Haiku took a few steps back, giving ample room to the father and his lookalike as she watched her love spin her little bat around, while the child cries in glee, never seeming to even want to let go. He missed his papa so much already.

Quite an interesting combination his parents are, the boy included. Logan can be best described as a near perfect image of his father, a mini-Link in a way, except he has inherited his mothers pale skin and dark brown, near black eyes. But what makes him truley unique is his hair color. Inheriting a mixed combination of his fathers white and mothers black locks, a form of gray, not too dark nor is it too light. An ashy type of gray. Alongside with the same toothy smile he had back in the day, and freckles on his cheeks. Lincoln smiles, bringing his five-year-old son up for a great big, papa bear hug.

But that's physically. Mentally? He's also an interesting mixup of the two.

"Imissedyousomuchhowwasworkdidyoustopthebadguys?!"

To any normal person they wouldn't be able to make out a single word from that jumbled up speech of his, but for Lincoln and Haiku, they understood him fine, but that doesn't mean it isn't overwhelming at times. Harriet brought a hand to her lips to help stifle a light giggle.

"Woah, woah." He placed his right hand on his head. "Calm down Lo." Chuckling, he decided to answer the boys questions.

"Work...was good." He stopped for a bit. Flashes of what happend came back.

 _'Fuckers got what they deserved.'_

"And yes...I stopped the bad guys." Logan smiled and hugged his father tighter which Lincoln returned with as much love as his boy.

Haiku watched on with a frown marring her face. She knew something was wrong from the tone of his voice, it didn't take her long to piece it together as to what caused it. She saw the news too, and as much great inspiration it gave her for her works, she was disgusted. Granted the disgust does help her when she's in the midst of writers block. It's horrible, so many lives were lost for no condoning reason. People die, yes, and she finds beauty in it, but as the years went on she found beauty within life as well. To have life there must be death and vice versa.

It especially hurt her soul to watch her love beat himself up when he video called her after the attack. She'll be there for him when we he needs to talk and her to him as well.

Logan already knows what his father does for a living. He isn't ashamed of it. Never. They made sure to tell him when he was able to comprehend the concept that is his fathers job. He didn't want to keep it a secret and tell the boy when he's older; it could cause a rift of betrayal, yelling and a whole lot of painful acts. He's glad his son was able to understand, Logan has always shown to be smarter than others his age. But socially the kid has taken more from his mothers department. Making friends isn't his forte.

With his son being held by his right arm, Link walked towards the living room, Haiku following from behind. He took the time to examine the near barren room as boxes stacked on each other with black marker writing to identify what's inside each one of the cardboard containers. He knows the flight to Michigan won't take off 'till early morning tomorrow. He's glad the flight is paid off: courteous from Melody, so he has time. This will be their last day in the only home Logan has known his entire life, and where he and Harriet had started over in, thanks to Marcus of course.

Looking down on his son with a curious expression plastered on his worn out face. "So, what do you want to do before tomorrow?" Logan stops for a bit and thinks to himself with a small hum.

Snapping his fingers. "I know! Lets read comics, or-or watch movies...Oh! And play outside—no, no wait! Mama promised to show me how to write creepy stuff-" Lincoln stops his son from getting too excited. "Woah, woah, calm down kid. We'll try to do them all, just one at a time. Ok?" His son nods with a happy expression on his face. Ready to finally have some fun with his parents.

Turning towards his wife, "You in?"

She shrugged, "I could use a break from the darkness right now. Plus, I did promise our little bat."

"Heh' ok, let's put operation have fun and spend this last day, then finally get up early, go to the plane and figure out a shorter name for this plan, into action."

Pumping his small arm up to the air, "Yeah!"

 **Really going through with it...**

 **DFW Airport...**

 **Too damn early in morning...**

Logan's head leans in and rests on his mothers right side as he fell asleep between his parents. The exhaustion of waking up early and having to wait a long time to have their luggage checked, finding their flight, the long wait for the pilot and finally ticket checks and boarding. Also can't forget the whole safety mandatory video they play. Can't really fault the kid for passing out. Lincoln's amazed he lasted this long. He guesses it's the excitement to be moving to his parents hometown and finally meeting the rest of the family on his both their sides. He's been told one day, over and over again.

Now that's today...

With both his wife and son passed out from exhaustion he used this time, before they would call out to everyone to shut down their technology, to skim through his tablet. Eyes quickly summarizing the various paragraphs and images that came with it. Stopping every now and again to observe the next generation of drone based technology and the ever advancement of weaponry for the continuing developing world. But this is not for the public. Melody eyes only.

He stops at the paragraph that he was looking for the entire time. From what he was able to get from skimming through line after line: a Brit, Zachary Joul, along the lines are the words Manchester and possible linking between the two.

But nothing on location...

"Yet." He mutters to himself lowly, making sure not to disturb their sleep. Right now though, he's on break. Guy really needs it.

 **"Attention passengers this is your captain speaking. We are preparing for take off, please put on your seatbelts and remain seated, while as you do so please power off any to all electronics until a later ok. We hope you enjoy your flight."**

Shutting down his tablet. "For now, I'm going to leave that for later." He looks out the window, watching as the plane starts to move. "I'm actually-" stopping himself as he gazed towards his young wife. With a soft expression, he covered her visible right hand with his left. "We're actually going through with this..."

 **~oOo~**

 **And that's a wrap!**

 **I hope y'all enjoyed this, and I'll be sure to get working on the next chapter whenever I can.**

 **For now, thanks for your time.**

 **Hound, out...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Whelp! Next chapter of Gun For Hire!**

 **I like to thank you all for taking your time and reading this little story of mine and I hope y'all continue to do so.**

 **This story takes place in an alternate history. How alternate you say? Well...9/11 never happened, in fact...something far worse took place, ravaging the world and literally blowing up in the ones who started it faces...it would lead to the rise of Lost Cause, PMCs and a new war...**

 **The Cold War would've left some old "toys" after it ended, and not ones that would better the human race...**

 **To think it all started with a man-made disease...**

 **Also, Lincoln and Haiku pairing? Hell yes.**

 **Now! Story time...**

"Talking"

 _'Thinking/inner thoughts'_

[ _Texting_ ]...

 ** _'Radio'..._**

 **~oOo~**

 **History Lesson...**

 **Unknown Melody facility...**

 **Year: 2027...**

Within the barren confines of a sizable room used for briefing, but currently not in use, lied a large wall-mounted, clear, visible screen. Immediately, as if sensing the presence of another, the screen came to life with a peppy, feminine, "Hiya!" Coming off the screens' speakers as it brought in light that illuminated the dark room, and within the screen was a girl, a young woman to be exact, she looks to be seventeen or so years old. Interesting choice of age, but, then again, it was her creators choice on how she was coded.

With a bright smile the young girl waved a friendly, welcoming hand as she gazed at you, the reader/viewer. Her body twitched a bit as she fizzed for a split second, and with a pouty face, and a quick stomp inside the digtal screen, she closed her eyes. "Hold on a quick second please." With a finger raised, she hummed for at least six seconds before she let out a sigh of relief. "Sorry about that." She gave an apologetic stare. "Glitches and stuff, ya know? Sucks. Trust me. Connection in here is garbage...oh well."

Widening her eyes. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I forgot to introduce myself." smacking her right palm on top of her light brown locks that go past her shoulders. "Come on Anya, you know better than that!" Looking back at you dear person. "Hi, I'm An...oh wait...you already know that since I already said...that..." She blushed. "Well this is awkward...yeah..."

Shifting a bit in unease. "Well I guess I should tell you who, or what, I am, huh?" She questioned. "Well it's obvious I'm not a girl." Stopping herself by waving her hands infront of her as she comprehended on what she said. "Wait! No, no, no, I am a girl, but I'm not a real girl, well I am real that's what papa and everyone else says...oh god I'm rambling again am I? I'm sorry, don't be mad, don't exit out and say goodbye to this crappy fanfic—Oh God I'm fourth-walling again!"

...well...uhhhh...as she's busy in her...self...loathing? No clue. She was finally able to gain control of her emotions that really needed some more tuning as it can plainly be seen she had a hard time keeping those in check.

"Alright." She stood in attention, ready to do this right. "My name is Anya and I'm an AI, or Artificial Intelligence. I was created by my papa, Julio Garza. A great man working for Melody." Her body disappeared as the screen shifted as an image appeared and took hold the entirety of the screen: a black background, but in the center stood an eighth note colored a pure white. "It's also the organization I'm wired into and hold my loyalty towards." Her voice now disembodied and echoey. "Willingly, mind you. I have a choice. I'm not a mindless machine," she added with a rare hint of disdain in her voice from the last two words.

She continued. "l was tasked to inform you, well more like teach you, about this world of ours. A refresher, ya know?" The screen shifted once more, but this time it was a detailed map of the world, but with black and orangey blobs and multiple dots peppering various parts of the globe. Not one landmass save Antarctica was left untouched. Even the United States was stained with these specks.

Date: **2027 A.D...**

"This is the world today," she pointed out. "Let's go back twenty-six years." The map fazed, and the black and orange blobs and dots were nonexistent.

Date: **September 11, 2001 A.D...**

"9/11 was the day the world changed," she started. "And not for the best," she ominously said. "But let's go back some." The map shifted, the east was highlighted red, and the west blue, "Say...the 1980's?" The map zoomed into the Middle East, onto a particular past nation known as Afghanistan. "The Soviet-Afghan War. Ahh~ the Cold War," she fawned. "Such an interesting time in human history. Brought the best and worst out of everyone."

The map was shrouded by a multitude of images, most black and white, while some, a few really, were in color. One displayed a row of vehicles traveling through the deserts of Afghanistan all bearing the Soviet sickle and hammer. Men in turbans using the very weapons their enemy used: the Mujahideen.

Ahh~ the AK. Sleek, elegant, simple, a child could use it...and they do. A multitude of bodies on both sides, some multilated, others just lying there on the defiled desert ground.

"Afghanistan, 1989; Russia's Vietnam if you did your history, and one of the many roots which would lead to the expansion of terror in the aftermath of war and ashes," she quipped. Taking a somber tone. "So many lives...and for what?...I believe this is what you call human nature, but I'm still learning much about my creators...it's a long, _strenuous_ , process."

She cleared her...throat?...ok... The sudden shift in atmosphere took a darker turn as all the images dissipated and in the center was an old facility buried under the suffocating sand that made up the region. "Black-pox," she said. "I've questioned humanity time and time again as I studied and read the various history texts and old files from long ago, but this...this is utterly insane. Who in their right mind would even think of this biological horror!" She lost control as the screen fizzed from her raging emotions. "Sorry," taking a meek tone. "I...I...let's continue..."

The picture of the facility shrunk in size by a few centimeters as two new square images split from it. One showed an old painting of human beings laying on the ground in no doubt pain as it can be plainly seen from the crudely drawn, but easily inferred expressions. Strange bulbous spots littered their bodies.

Date: **1346-1353...**

Continent: **Europe...**

Total estimated dead: **75 to 200 million...**

"Fleas on rats, Bubonic plague, or simply...the Black Death. One of the most devastating pandemics in human history...reducing the known worlds population during the time, and wiping out 30-60% of Europe's total population back in the day...quite a tragic time..."

The second image...it was quite a _skin_ crawler. It showed a human being, an adult male, his face and entire chest area is covered in protruding spots that never seem to end...

Date:

Continent: **Worldwide...**

Total estimated dead: **Upon the hundreds of millions or more...**

"Small-" Anya gave a disgusted shiver as she didn't want to even stare at that image anymore. "Pox. Equally one of humanities worst diseases. How bad you say? Well, between 1880 and 1980, over 500 million people will be killed by this destructive _gift_ of nature, until it's eradication—thank God...but," her tone became somber once more. "The Soviets had to play with death."

She continued. She had to. It was her orders to do so. No matter how much she doesn't want to speak of this...this atrocity. "The Soviet Union was in the midst of experimentation of the biological level of weaponry of mass destruction. Seeing how nuclear war would be a very, extremely stupid, answer in case of war were to ever come about. They sought after a more...subtle approach in one-upping the west and it's allies in case World War III was ever to come about." She paused so you the reader can take it in. "A crippler really. Though the great question was: why smallpox? By that time it was already eradicated. Well, you see, the Soviets have been experimenting and were able to create powerful strands that would withstand any of the current vaccinations of the time...disgusting." A bitter taste left her mouth.

The images disappeared. "By the time the Afghanis were able to push the Sovies out, the facility was abandoned, and the research would be taken back, but it wouldn't be touched upon by 1991, but by that time the Union fell and the war was over." She said. "...Then another war started and this one was a big, fat middle finger to the U.S since they trained and armed these guys."

The screen shifted and pictures of Mujahideen fighters turned into the old fighters of terror, a new black flag and white crudely drawn circle with strange script written in it. "Al-Qaeda, an anti-western terror organization. Responsible for many attacks back in day..." She sighed. "A simpler time..." She muttered lowly.

The picture of a man would cover most of the smaller images. He wore white clothing and an equally white turban, a long black beard, and a small smile was plastered on his brown skin."Usama ibn Mohammed ibn Awad ibn Ladin, or simply, Osama Bin Ladin. This...man," she spat. "Had the plan of an attack that would have shook the American people to its core." Images of the Twin Towers were shown next to his face, alongside the Pentagon and White House. "The attack on world trade centers and other important areas of the United States...but others had different ideas. Fighters of the organization would stumble upon the old biological facility and raid its entirety. Though it wasn't easy, they were able to convince Osama and various others that this is the way to strike and take back what the west has done to them. They were successful in their persuasion...this was the beginning of change..."

The world map shifted once more as those black and orangey spots started to grow slowly, but aggressively. "It was successful, but like all things—diseases really...it all blows up in your face, or in this case...comes back and infects ya." Red lines soon shot out the map from New York and took off into Europe, then splitting to Asia, South America, Australia, parts of Africa, the Middle East, and soon the various nations that came with them. "By the time the terrorist made it home they displayed symptoms quick and would be dead by three days tops...the virus lingered and those who touched them barehanded or without protective gear died too...painfully," she added. "All in all, they never thought it would go this out of hand...really?," she questioned. "You do don't think a disease—a man made biological weapon! Wouldn't get out of hand?...come on..." Anya shook her non-visible head.

"The world would fall into hell...the next four years would be chaos...the death rate would be high. Unlike anything man has seen before." The pain in her voice was plain to hear. "But," so was the hope. "I've learned that humanity will pull through, even in hell."

The spots grew in size, no nation was spared, the world population was displayed **6** **,223,412,158** , and declined at a rapid pace, each continent displayed their personal populations and they fell down as fast as the rest of the others. More and more images stemmed from each continent and nation; hundreds of bodies in white bags thrown on top of the other and set ablaze in Spain, riots in Australia, infighting and the use of military force in Columbia, people of both genders and all ages in makeshift beds, laying in pain as they moan and slowly decay away as flashlights shine on their forms from men and women in hazmat suits in Cairo, it just keeps coming.

"Like out of nowhere, it ceased. But it wasn't dead. No. It was far from eradicated. The infection is still out there and it's still taking lives, but not at the insane levels as last time." The first map was displayed once more. "The world was scarred, but more damage came economically than population lost, though the latter had helped in the formers predicament. Trust was strained, families were torn, and the world is still recovering." Now all the attention was on the spots.

"Now, I'm sure your wondering what those blobs that pepper the world are. Well I'm going to tell you. They're called LCZ, or-" She stopped suddenly. Soon Anya's entire body formed and covered the screen as she had her right hand on her ear.

"Oh...looks like we're out of time." Her pouty look came back. "Dangit." She stomped her foot. "Ah well," she sighed. With an apologetic stare she gave a light wave. "Till next time. Anya, out..."

 **~oOo~**

 **What a long flight...**

 **Airport...**

 **United States of America, Michigan...**

 **2027...**

"God, I hate this part." Twenty-one-year-old, husband, father, and Melody member, Lincoln Loud sighed as he, his wife, Harriet, or Haiku, as she prefers more than her actual name, and their son, Logan, awaited in an asinine long line for their turn in the airport Pathogen Scanner.

Haiku gave her loving husband a slight hum in agreement. "But it is necessary," The gothic woman spoke back, though she too doesn't really enjoy the process of having her entire being scanned, it gives those men operating it a view of herself only her husband is allowed to see and touch. She narrowed her eyes as she caught the sight of the two operators taking their time with another woman, their obvious slight blushes, hint of noses bleeding and drool from their lips shows plainly on what they were taking their sweet time on.

 _'Perverts,'_ she mentally growled.

Lincoln saw her face scrunched up in disgust and soon caught on quickly as he too saw what was taking so long. The woman being scanned was beautiful, had all the right curves in all the right places, but his eyes were on his wife and his wife only, and he's sure Haiku's beauty could out beat all the other good looking females in this here airport. He frowned since he knew their turn was up and knowing how this will go, the mere thought of those ass-clowns ogling his wife's body when they scan her makes him want to bash their faces on their computer screens until the glass breaks and lacerates their faces, but he knows he must find control.

Haiku felt a familiar hand on her shoulder and saw Lincoln's face move closer to her ear, whispering, "I could kick their asses if they do what we both know they'll do."

She held a slight giggle that nearly escaped her lips, opting to instead to smile softly. "Tempting, but I prefer you don't get dragged out by the police...again," she added, remembering various incidents back in the past five years. She loves her husband, truly she does, she doesn't want him to get involve with the law again.

Lincoln winced from an unpleasant memory of those few times he was in trouble. "Tasers." He whispered with a far off look in his eyes as he remembered...vividly. The mere word made his skin crawl as goosebumps sprouted.

Oh yes, tasers. Haiku remembers perfectly the first time she saw him tazed. What started with a couple of bone heads hitting on her as he took one-year-old Logan to see the ducks in White Rock, next thing they know, cops were involved, and _BZZZT!_ That horrid crack of live electricity, the metal needles piercing his skin, the convulsing, though he didn't scream, his words came out as growls of anger and pain, mostly pain.

Seeing how they have nothing better to do than wait, she decided to bring it up. "Remember White Rock?" Of course he does, he would run there every Sunday, the entire loop around the lake, but he knows she's talking about the time he was first tased.

He gave out a slight chuckle. "How could I forget?" He reminisced that day and the aftermath. "I remember you held Lo the entire time and sat in the waiting room until Marcus came in and tore me a new one." He laughed from that memory, until he slightly shivered from the talking to until the old man was told what happened, word for word, then he congratulated Linc with a pat on the back and, "Don't fuck up again."

Ahh~ life...

Haiku gave a firm nod, though a smile was still plastered on her lips. "Of course. I wasn't going to leave you, my love." She turned to face him fully, but had to look up as a result of their height differences, yet none of them really mind, Linc thinks short is cute. Deciding to mess with him she adopted a serious expression. "I expect the same from you if I ever fall under a similar situation." Crossing her arms under her C-cup chest, she gazed expectantly.

Linc snorted as he smiled wider, leaning in for a kiss, she accepted with a hum of delight, brushing a bit of tongue in the process. Others around them reacted in various ways; some guys silently cheered the twenty-one-year-old man on, others were jealous he was with a girl as fine as her, women fawned at the love they displayed, while others muttered in distaste from the pda. But one in particular...

A familar gag pulled them apart as the couple directed their eyes on their five-year-old son busy creating gagging noises with his finger pointing up where his mouth is open. Looking at his parents in disgust. "Gross guys, don't do that here!" The kid was never one to enjoy to see his parents making out or anything of that nature involving their display of affection in public, Logan saw it as gross or embarrassing at times.

The boy crossed his arms as he gave his parents a bit of stare. "There's a time and place for everything." Raising a finger. "But not here."

Linc removed his hands from his lady, both parents couldn't help but to lightly smile. "Oh come on, Lo. I'm just showing your ma' how much I love her."

The boy was still defiant, but lessened his stance. "Yeah I know, dad, but," darting his eyes left and right, "I don't like people staring. It's uncomfortable."

His mother couldn't stop the giggle this time leaving her lips before she was able to cover her mouth, his father just chuckled and ruffled his grey locks.

"Hey!" Logan exclaimed as he tried swatting his old mans hand from his hair.

By that time they wasted enough time where it was Logan's turn (thank fuckin' finally! Lines suck! 'Specially airport lines!) to go through the Pathogen Scanner, but the boy was a bit nervous, even though they had to go through one back in Texas, it doesn't mean the kid enjoys it. But with a slight push from his father and a smile and nod from his mother, the young Loud sucked it up, took a few steps forward, stopping where the painted shaped feet were located on the ground.

"Alright kid." One of the operators, a fat white guy, spoked, sounding bored as hell. "Arms extended from your sides." The boy complied and did such that. "Alright, hold still."

The Pathogen Scanner: a screening device created and introduced three years after the end of the pandemic in 2008, with the help and use of digital touch displays the scanners can immedialty detect any pathogen that could be classified as deadly, and with the reemergence of old diseases: cholera, dysentery, and so much more in the aftermath, this device was immensely sought after.

Bastard who made it is practically swimming in green. Only issue was that the west and other nations of power and wealth could afford these, leading to unhealthy nations to still be at risk with these uglies sprouting their heads once more.

The blue light that scanned Logan up and down and down and up, in a repeated motion, was accompanied with a light hum. The Loud winced, squinting his eyes whenever the light went past them. Scanning through clothes and skin— the operators saw it all. Doesn't mean his parents take to kindly of it. It's blatantly an invasion of privacy, but it is necessary.

A green light beeped twice, high pitched, signifying he was clean. "Alright then kid." the fat man waved his arm dismissively. "Next."

Logan stepped aside, watching as he waited for his parents to finish their turns. Lincoln was up next. The older male Loud stepped up with an bored expression as he's done this so many times before. Comes with the job really, especially whenever he comes back from a mission in one of the Zones. It's a tedious ordeal, but he has no say in something like this. At least it isn't a strip-search...in a way it kinda is.

Linc rolled his eyes when he was instructed on what to do. _'Yeah, yeah, yeah...I already know what to do.'_ Raising his arms up, he stood still, didn't react or flinch from the blinding light, he's seen brighter. Lincoln soon visibly sighed when he knew what was coming up, so does his wife as this happened earlier back in Dallas.

When the blue scanner stopped at his right leg it blinked, changed into a quick orange, and gave a slight beep, but lower in pitch. The people behind them waiting tensed up as they feared he was a carrier, the security officers also reacted as they scrutinized the young man. Logan was worried, but a quick flash of a reassurance from his father relived his worries when the child remembered the reason for this, so he relaxed and placed his hands within his front hoodies pocket. Haiku busied herself by thinking up new ideas of her current work on the next chapter of her novel. Hey, you got the time use it.

The operator raised his hand to diffuse the situation, sighing in relief as it wasn't a deadly virus on him. "He's clean." Raising both eyebrows. "Is that his leg?...Jesus," he muttered lowly from the digital display all centered around his right leg. The entirety of his lower leg, stopping right where his kneecap is, is fully synthetic, an artificial prosthetic.

 _'First this, then the metal detectors...yaaaaaaaayyy'_

He really, really, REALLY, hates this.

The operator and the guards who decided to take a look winced from the scanned image of burnt skin, and a multitude of small to overly large scars around the fleshy, real part of the rest of his leg.

Shaking his fat head, and with a wave, "Your good, sir. Move along."

He stood next to Logan, both males awaited for the formers wife and the latters mother. Linc kept his sights set on the men working the scanner, he knew he can't loose his cool, but these jackasses looking at his wife like that made him clench his fists in a bit of rage.

Haiku let out her signature sigh and stepped up. "Let's get this over with," she muttered. Arms extended, an impassive expression on her beautiful face, she didn't even blink or move a single muscle when the blue light met her eyes.

"Oh damn." The operator nudged his buddy and both had lecherous, perverted grins when the scanner stopped on her skin, past her clothes, both stared at her body like teenagers with a porn magazine or with way to much time on the Internet with the tab saying Porn Hub. Haiku's eyes narrowed from their blatant behavior and words. She did catch the sight of Lincoln with his hands in fists as they shook a bit, she's pretty sure popping is audible. The gothic mother gave him a reassuring smile that did the trick.

Logan was wondering what's up with his dad when he saw his hands were in fist and he heard his knuckles pop. "Dad?" Lincoln looked down at him in a bit of confusion when he saw the concern on his boy's face. "Are you ok?"

Linc 'oohed' when he saw how he was acting distressed his son, so with a light sigh, and an equally light pat on Logan's head. "Yeah, son...I'm fine...just stressed from work, ok?"

Logan did not want to push his father so he responded with a quick nod and a, "M'kay."

And he was telling the truth about the stress. Linc feels a sense of failure that he and his team weren't able to stop the bomb before it went off, taking countless lives and ruining even more. He knew he shouldn't beat himself up about it, but...if only...like so many times before he felt the same feeling he knows all to well...failure...

A weird feeling from what's basically a gun for hire...but he's still a human being...

Harriet's turn was finally over, the young mother didn't give those perverts a passing glance as she made her way towards her boys.

"Well," she started, "that's done."

"Yeah." Linc nodded, giving a final glare at the operators before shaking his head and grabbing her hand, and she grabbed Logan's.

"So is that it?" The little Loud ask, this was turning into a really long day.

"I wish," Linc sighed.

Haiku nudged him. "Almost." Turning towards her son who looked back expectantly. "The metal detectors, customs, and that's it."

The boy nodded with a smile that continued to grow, but with a hint of nervousness from the mere fact he was going to finally meet the rest of the people, from both sides, he would call family. He's more nervous than happy, but the latter emotion was still there.

Linc took out his phone from his pocket and searched through his contact list until he stumbled on 'Marcus'. With a few taps, he sent the old bastard a message. It didn't take long when he received his reply.

 _*DING*_

[ _Nice. Your car is where I told you its at. The rest of your stuff is still being loaded inside the house, but should be done by the time you make it. Should meet the real estate agent by the time you guys make it, sign the final document and done.]- Marcus_

Linc was curious on the agent.

[ _Anything I should know about the agent?]_

 _*DING*_

[ _Oh it's a surprise. Trust me..._ ]- _Marcus_

Oooookay...weird, but alright. With a shrug he pocketed his phone and continued on their path.

 **~oOo~**

 **Sigh...**

 **Royal Woods, Michigan...**

 **Ketcham Park...**

Even with all the children who would roam, run wild, scream in joy, or in fear from the bullies dunking sand on them, making them eat it, or simply pulling them away so no one can see the punches fly or the cruel laughter of the douchebags bringing pain onto the weak. One person could be found outside in this cool weather. A nice October breeze that never ceased as it swayed the branches of the various trees under its whim, enough to send goosebumps on a persons skin.

Even with all those trees, only one stood out the most, well not really standing out, but to her it did. What made it unique was the fact it farther away from the others the public would crowed around as the children would do their thing and their parents would finally have some much needed time with themselves as they question why they had these little monsters in the first place...some may actually smile as they watched their child making friends or being free as free can be.

An ideal spot for a certain, and familiar, goth we all know and love. No longer is she that little girl that constantly sighs. She's now that young woman, and legal adult at eighteen...that constantly sighs...still...

With her back against the hard bark, and accepting the shadow from the branches she has immedialty grown to love the first time she sat under this old oak, Lucy Loud sat crosslegged as she held between her hands an old book of hers that has seen better days, but has yet to cease to bore her no matter how many times she has read it time and time again.

'Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde', quite a read, an old read at that. Turning a worn page, Lucy hummed to herself. Something she has been doing everynow and again for the time being.

The years have been kind to this young woman, having grown into a fuller figure of both height and curves in all the right places. Her outfit never really changing, sans the added pitch black jacket with various pockets she has grown fond of and constantly wears everywhere she goes, be it inside or outside, she will wear it without a single care. Unlike in the past when she would have both her eyes shrouded by her dyed black locks, she has allowed now only her right eye to be visible, while the left is kept hidden; showing her beautiful, clear blue orb to the world that she sees nothing more than an annoyance in her miserable, mortal life full of annoying humans. Black mascara easily seen, even when she blinks, bags included under her eye. No doubt nights staying up doing whatever the hell she does when the moon shines down from above these lands.

"Sigh." Strange how she says the word sigh than actually sighing...anywho...Lucy closed her book. Deciding to gaze upon the vast canopy known as the sky with the same unamused expression she has perfected for years already. No one really knows what goes on in this little gothic emo's head, nor do they want to. Some thing's are best left untouched and unlearned.

That's how she prefers it...

She knows she should be attending classes, having graduated high school, this Loud is in her first year of college, attending the local community college. Truthfully, she doesn't know what she wants to major in, but she really doesn't care a whole lot at the moment. Rather, Dutchess of Darkness would prefer to be home typing away her rough drafts of poems, posting them on online forums as she would scroll through the countless comments of support and some hate, the new followers and favorites, and the few bucks she would earn just to continue posting.

Speaking of poems and literature. Lucy was actually inspired to do this, never has she ever thought of placing her works on the Internet, but from one day stumbling on another's on the web, she was moved from the raw emotion and great skill this person displayed, later learning this person goes by the name H.L. That's it. What drove this Loud into being her fan was the fact she grew out of the online writers and made a name for herself in book publishing. Lucy has taken the pleasure on reading and enjoying, though mainly her works in the macabre. She was surprised, along with so many others, when H.L began to take a few tentative steps in the science fiction, though still mixed with dark and gloomy themes, parts of literature. For whatever reason, she, nor anyone else, has any clue.

But she took a risk and cracked open one these books, immediatly she grew fond of it, though the militaristic settings, words, and style was a new one for her, it was still an interesting read.

'Not the same and Bloody Evolution' were her favorites...not that she says it out loud, fearing the taunting she would acquire from others learning of her, the Queen of Gloom and Doom! Having enjoyed a bit of a genre only what others say nerds would enjoy. (FYI: I'm a nerd. Ok? Good.)

She remembered the day she met her, but it was strange. It was during a book signing her mother, Rita, was apart of. Having quit her previous work as a dental assistant, Rita Loud has also found her own success in writing books. Having her own fanbase of those loyal to her. Lucy had her copy of 'Bloody Evolution' with her as she spotted the line, stealthy made her way, the others were suprised by the long line. When it was finally her turn, young Lucy was met with a strange sight as one of her favorite authors was completely covered, she couldn't even see her eyes as sunglasses, black as midnight, shielded them. Only her hands were visible, pale as hers.

Not a single word except a nod of thanks and her signature...just H.L...

Strange...

Her mind drifted away from that memory, settling on something else, a big one, this memory each member of her family shares and dwells on with either anger, hope, fear, or immense sadness...the day their brother/son left them...that is a day no one can forget no matter how much they try to scrub it away with other thoughts.

The five years have been far from nice, they have, well cruel isn't really the word, more like hard. Extremely hard on all of them, friends included who enjoyed or at least knew the sole male sibling of the Loud house.

It was nothing but shock that day as he laid down on them a bomb far bigger than the ones Lost Cause has dropped on the nations of the world...Lost Cause...she understands their plight, but...

Shaking her head, she mustn't get distracted. The bomb came in the form of him walking, far slower than before, in immense fear, while they were eating dinner, but of course they were confused as to why he looked the way he did and his uncharacteristic silence, then it came before any were able to open their mouths...a stick...not just any stick, the one she and the rest knew perfectly, sans Lily since she has merely five during the time.

A pregnancy stick, test, whatever...that was what he placed on the table as they ate. She remembered all eyes were on him that night. No one said a thing as the shock was real. The silence...one thought impossible from a family like theirs. Even the dunce known as Leni understood perfectly what that is and meant. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates that day, all of them were, though Lucy's was covered, Lily was lost on what's wrong as she kept chewing her goulash.

It was positive as positive can be...so many questions towards this crazed puzzle they never gained an answer to. Never had they ceased scratching on who the mother was as for sure it wasn't Ronnie Anne as he broke up with her...the bruises on his body were far more than even she can count or want to recollect.

Who was the mother? That is the question. How long have they known each other? And, this was Lynn's, He's not a virgin?! Before she went apeshit, accusing that "bitch ass whore" on _raping_ her little brother. That's when he lost his shit and fought back, and boy was it terrifying and shocking to see him—the weakest link of their family, or of any other really, fight back. Sending Lynn Loud Jr onto the floor, gritting his teeth, hands in fist, and a fire in his eyes that she wishes she could unsee as the rage was real.

In actuality, shit was lost when he said only two words that would lead to all of it.

"It's mine"...those words...she will never forget the way he said it. The sheer fear on his face, eyes darting, unable to even look at them, but...she swore their was a hint of elation when he confirmed the unborn child at the time was his.

Time and time again she wished things went differently. She knows of their built in mob mentality, and she hates it, very much so, but it's so ingrained it's nothing but a second nature to her and the others, sans Lily. At least the youngest grew up with reasoning.

To make matters worse for her, she has also lost the only other person she could call friend, or a best friend. As she's known as just Haiku to anyone who dares approaches her, Lucy knew her as Harriet. Her true friend. But like her brother she left without a trace...

...which is strange...when he left, she was later pronounced missing no later than her sole male sibling...has to be a coincidence she supposes. There's no way that—there's no way in hell! The only time those two ever interacted was during the Sadie Hawkins dance ten years ago, either than that...yeah there's no way...

Right?

Yeah...she's sure. They have nothing in common anyway. Still, even as she doesn't show it, Lucy cares deeply for the two and hopes, wherever the hell they are, that they are safe. Hell, maybe if their lucky they could cross paths, that would be interesting.

Maybe...

The baby...her niece, or maybe nephew, but she has no doubt the baby is a girl, considering that males are hard to come by in their family. There are times the Loud sisters would gather around and talk about him or her. Leni stands by that it's a boy. Letting their imaginations run wild as they try to picture their sole and only niece or nephew, and grandchild in their parents case, as Lori and Bobby haven't gone down and done the bedroom tango without protection. Lori always says the same thing that she wants to focus on her work right now, or they're not ready. Whatever, she's already twenty-seven, better get started.

"Sigh." Letting her book hang loosely from her grip as she brought her legs up and knees to her chest, resting her chin rest on her kneecaps. "If only things were different..."

 **~oOo~**

 **So we're back...**

 **Royal Woods, Michigan...**

 **On the road...**

In a full orange, 2025 Ford Mustang, sat the family of three. Lincoln on the drivers seat, steering towards their destination, until a red light popped up, signifying for him to stop and wait until the good ol' green comes up. In the mean time he took it all in. Turning his head to his left he looked out the window and gazed upon the various shops and buildings that made his and wife's old hometown. Occasionally he would catch his lovely wife also analyzing her surroundings from her side of the car next to him. In a way it was like a little game to see how much has change, and not a whole lot by the looks of it, but you never know.

He took a quick peek up at the rear-view-mirror, his sons reflection perfectly displayed what he was doing, which was nothing. The kid had his grey Nintendo in his hands, and a pair of headphones attached to his music player, blaring God-knows-what into his young ears. Occasionally he would stop his game-time and look out through both windows. Like his mother, he inherited her analytical stare, quickly switching to anything that moved and staring it up and down until another object of movement or interest pulled their eyes towards it.

With a small smile, Linc couldn't help but to internally sigh in nostalgia from the sight of his son as he reminded him of, well, him whenever there's a car trip, he was prepared, be it a handheld game or comic, whatever to pass the time. As the light finally tuned green, and he pressed the gas, the young father's smile faltered, morphing into a frown when the radio began to speak about the Manchester attack.

The man on the radio cleared his throat as he continued on where he left off. _**'As a result of the aftermath of the Manchester attacks that have occurred just two days ago, the United Kingdom is now in debate of strengthening borders and the possibility of sending more troops into neighboring LC zones in the belief that area of Lost Cause is responsible for the attack.'**_

Lincoln's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his wife saw this from the corner of her eye, a frown marred her face.

The man continued. **_'The death toll is in the hundreds...'_ **He stopped to let it sink in. _**'From the intial start of the attack, LC shot up and blatantly murdered over 103 people, police included. What was believed to be just 60 killed from the car bomb that got away is actually over 108 are confirmed deceased. 78 from the bomb and 30 from falling debris from neighboring buildin-'**_

Haiku flipped to a different station, her result was the rythem of whatever crappy music was playing from whatever crappy artist in this current generation.

Worriment. That's a feeling she knows all to well. That's the life of a Melody wife. A life she accepts, but can't help to fear. Yes. Haiku does fear things. She's human like the rest of us, and all humans have fears, just some have better control of it than others.

She isn't lying when she says that she trusts him more than even her old friend Lucy, for he knows more about her than anyone else. More than even his gothic sibling, who, the last them she met in person, well not in person person per se, as she was in her disguise so no one can recognize her. She's weird like that. It hurt to see her old, if not, only friend before she got to know her brother better.

Anyway, off topic.

She knows how he's feeling. It's obvious. He feels like it's his fault, he always feels as such when a mission is a failure and takes the lives of those who didn't deserve it. And DAMMIT! She hates that! It's not his fault. It's never his fault! But...she understands as to where this belief of failure comes from. When they were fourteen, when they started dating after...that...a slight tinge of pink dusted her cheeks from the memory of that cold November afternoon in that field...repeatedly blinking her eyes to bring back some sense. He vented to her, and it was a lot. She figured he had told these problems to his best friend during the time, Clyde. But no. The raw emotion was clear he never told anyone this. No one but her. How he felt like a failure at times, tired of all those trophies in their cases mocking him, wanting to be more like him and less like them, how he just wants some much needed peace...it was a lot...

No doubt the whole mob mentality of his sisters and ganging up from the simplest mistakes led to this mindset.

She used the advantage of her son's inability to hear them in the current moment to say the words that needed to be said, she had enough of this.

Without missing a beat. "Stop it." Simple, precise, no bullshitting.

Blinking his eyes, "Wha-"

She cuts him off. "Stop thinking it's your fault. Damnit just stop. Can't you see how your making yourself feeling worse over something you had no—absolutely zero control of?" Her eyes were hard and absolute.

He would've turned his head towards her, but his attention was on the road ahead, so he let out a sigh as his expression sunk a bit in self-disappointment. Her frown deepened.

"I know, love, but-"

Once more. "No buts, Loud."

Oh shit...she was pissed. He winced from the Loud part.

She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her head back on the seat, opening them she continued. "We've been through...so much together...so much. I cannot stand to look at you when you get like this. I understand, really I do, and you know it." He silently nodded. "But..." She bit her lip. "Just stop, my love. Those lives are not yours to put your blame on...their blood is not in your hands. It's a tragedy, but you are not their executor, their butcher, their reaper." She swiveled her head and gazed at him lovingly, a bit of pain in her eyes now too. "I worry...I sometimes think you worry more for their lives than your own." He really felt like shit now as he understood what she meant.

A few tears fell from her eyes. "That day...in the hospital...your leg." He winced again from that pain. "I...the tubes they placed on you...your face...so peaceful I thought you were," her voice broke a bit. Something no one thought Haiku was capable of, but they just don't know her. "Dead...I thought you were going to leave me...leave Logan..."

There are many things that can hurt Lincoln emotionally, but nothing beats the sight of either his son or wife crying infront of him. He was glad Logan didn't see them or even notice this happening.

When the approuching light turned red he stopped immedialty and turned towards her, the mere sight of his love nearly breaking apart made him feel like a complete bastard. Gripping her, he pulled her towards him and caught her lips in his. They stayed like that for the entire time until a car honked at them to get going, gaining the attention of their son who just shrugged and went back to his game.

With one hand on the wheel and the other on her smaller one. "I'm sorry...I...love you, both of you..." He didn't know what else to say, but he knew she was right, he has no control in those situations and must accept people will die in war, they always will, either you like it or not.

She tightened the hold. "I as well, my love."

Life is hard. It's a bitch. Nothing more than a big fuck you to the face...but it gets better, 'specially if you have someone to love and they love you back.

The music ceased and a peppy female voice took over the radio, and what she said caught the father's interest immensely.

 _ **'And that's that of Luna Loud's tour of good ol' Western Europe! This rockin gal has taken the music industry by storm as she brought with her a fire of passion and rock in her heart! With her new song 'Fighting the Future' gaining immense love and success.'** _Linc couldn't help to smile. _' **This twenty-five year old is going places! Places I tell you! Anyway, we asked what Luna was going to do for the time being, and she responded that she was going to wind down and spend time with her family until the next tour. No doubt fans will follow.'**_ Oh god...that's not good since where they are moving to.

Another voice on the radio, a guys, took over. **_'Thanks for that Christy. Now onto other important news, ahem~ the ruthless infection that has ravged our world, Black-Pox, in the past, has already taken the lives of over 302 in Madagascar alone as neighboring nations in Africa have already began blockades against the island nation-'_**

Linc turned the radio completely off. "I think that's enough radio for today..."

Haiku nodded. "Hmmm..."

Logan took off his headphones and closed his game as he decided to take a break, looking at his parents with a question in mind. "Hey dad?"

"Yeah?" Linc responded.

"Umm, you said you used to know the guy who used to live in the house we're gonna live in right?"

Lincoln grinned from the memories, his wife slightly smiled from the funny stories he used to tell her when they were dating. "Oh boy...yeah, son. I did, why?"

Logan shrugged. "Just curious," Tilting his head. "What was his name again? Gross?"

His old man bursted out laughing as his mother held in a giggle. "Heh' Grouse, it's Grouse, son."

"Oh." He nodded. "What happend to him? Since, ya know, we're gonna be living in his house." At that Linc's expression turned somber as he knew exactly what happend to the old grouch.

"He...he's no longer with us." He felt his wife's hand on his once more give a light squeeze of reassurance.

Logan knew what death was, his mother is Haiku of all people, and his old mans line of work. "Oh...h-how?"

Lincoln smiled. "Don't worry. It was peaceful. In his sleep. Just was his time." He saw his sons expression and decided to cheer him up. "Heh' I remember a pretty funny story if you want to hear it."

His son looked at him curious. "What type of story?"

He smirked. "Oh kid, this one will make you laugh. It was Christmas and I was eleven years old..."

 **~oOo~**

 **Literally**

 **1217 Franklin Avenue...**

 **An old grouches house...**

Twenty-seven-year-old Lori Santiago sighed, busying herself on her phone as she stood on the front yard of her old neighbor, Mr. Grouse's, may he rest in peace, old house. Red suit and all, she was a real estate agent. Next to her was her younger sister by a year, Leni. The fashion designer and also hollow headed beauty.

Her attention was really on her phone(unsuprising) ignoring her dunce of a sister as she instead focused on soley sending back-and-forth messages to her husband of three years Roberto, or Bobby Santiago, or, how she calls him, Bobby Boo-Boo-Bear and all that lovely dovey crap.

The modern day fashion designer never knew when to shut her mouth, but Lori grew a tolerance of it, answering her with a few head nods and "Uh-huh" "Oh, yeah" and "That's nice" every know and again, besides the obvious lack of interest the twenty-six-year-old airhead kept going as she awaited for the people who bought this old home, well new one since it was being renovated and repaired for the past month or so, yet it was only movers and construction people who really came and set foot on it, absolutely no word on the ones who bought it.

Weird. Yet Leni didn't care, she was just excited of new people. Bless her naive soul.

Lori was also curious, but not like her sister here, instead she just wanted to get this over with, get a few papers signed, put on a fake smile, show them around, blah, blah, blah, boring shit, boring shit, and done. Another sale under her name and more cash and respect from her coworkers.

Yet, this is Lori we're talking about, she's impatient, an attitude waiting to be pushed, and a temper on a time limit, and not a long one at that. She must remain professional though, no matter how bored she is right now. Rather she be home, in the arms of her Boo-Boo-Bear as they caress the other in their love.

But, jobs a job. Get it done really.

With another sigh, she placed her precious phone away and took another look at the house. Whoever paid for all those renovations, added features, and all that stuff the movers brought in must be loaded, cause goddamn there was some expensive stuff in those drawers and a lot of paintings, though too dreary for her taste. Don't get her started on the books, or the overly large cases of whatever. Whats inside it? She has no clue, but she understands they were ordered to carry it with the utmost care or else, literally, that's what was written on them.

"Lori, are you even listening to me?" Her ears registered her sisters question, seeing how Leni looked a bit miffed from the corner of her eyes, so Lori responded the only way she can, or instinctively could.

"Yup."

Leni smiled. "Oh, good! Anyway, like I was saying, how..."

'Jesus Christ...' She loves her sister, truly she does, but this...Jesus...hurry up already please!

As if her prayer was heard a Mustang slowed as it drove up the driveway of the house and parked, with her head perked, a sigh of relief, and a fake smile plastered on her face. Leni ceased talking finally, and walked with her, smile genuine than her old roommate.

She expected the passengers to come out, but instead the doors remained close and instead both young women heard what sounded like a laugh, a really loud one at that, one of zero control as they made out as a man losing his shit over something; they couldn't see him as the windows were tinted black.

 **~oOo~**

 **Didn't see that coming...**

 **With Lincoln, Haiku and Logan**

The first thing both Lincoln and Haiku did when they caught the sight of the two women, the red being the real estate agent, and the other a well known clothing designer of the modern era, was widen their eyes. Linc's was wider as his mouth was agape, his expression was displayed through his eyes as his blue orbs frantically searched around for a clear explanation.

The young mother placed a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. "You got to be kidding me," she muttered lowly.

Logan peaked out his window, gazing at the two-story home in a bit of awe, his new home. "Woah~ is this really it, mama?"

She nodded, still in a bit of shock, but her little bat didn't see it. "Yes. Yes it is, little bat."

Linc's expression changed when his mouth closed and his lips curled in a smile. "Heh'" catching both occupants in the car attentions.

"Heh-heh"

"My love?" She was worried.

"Dad?" His son was a bit creeped out by his smile.

"HehehehehehehHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

He lost it, freaking out his small family as both wife and son were completely taken back from his chaotic laughter that never ceased to stop.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!"

 **~oOo~**

 **Back with Lori and Leni**

The eldest Loud sibling was tapping her foot on the grass as this was annoying as hell, and creepy too. A frown marred her beautiful, mature face as she was losing her cool every second. Leni was patient, but her smile completely faltered as this mans laughter made her uncomfortable.

 **'BEEP! BEEP! BEEEEEP!'**

Both jumped from the cars horn blaring over and over again.

"What the hell is wrong with this guy?" Lori was really starting to lose it.

 **~oOo~**

 **Back with the family of three**

Lincoln's hysterical laughter was accompanied by his head hitting the center of the wheel as this was the only way to show his frustration from the fact he had to confront his past, not his wife's, first...and the real estate agent had to be LORI!

"HAHAHAHAHAHA- **BEEP-** HAHAHAHAHAHAHA- **BEEP-** **BEEP-BEEP-BEEEEEEEEEEP!'**

Logan was really scared right now. "Mama, dad's scaring me!" She was about to console her baby boy until her love bashed his fist on the wheel over and over, each beep that came muffled his vulgarity. Each one made them flinch.

"SHI-" **BEEP!'**

"JESUS MOTHERFUC-" **BEEEEEEEEEP!'**

"SONAVA-" **BEEEP!'**

He stopped. "Ok...ok...I'm done, I'm cool."

Haiku looked at him unsure. "Really?" An eyebrow raised.

He shook his head. "No. Heh' oh god no." Craning his neck so it could pop and loosen the tension he called out to his son, "Come on, Lo."

Logan raised both eyebrows. "Wha?" He was still reeling from that scary moment.

"Figured we get this over with," Linc mutterd to his wife. "You coming?" Asking his lady.

She nodded. "You two first, I'll come out after their blatant shock when they see you." Oh god does this woman have a sense of humor.

He grinned. "Ohohohoho~ yeah..."

 **~oOo~**

 **Back with Lori and Leni**

The insane laughter and beeping finally stopped and the drivers door opened. Lori put on her fake smile, though still extremely annoyed by the freaky wait as Leni still faltered a bit but matched her steps with her older sister. Both watched as two legs showed themselves from the opened door as another door in the back opened as well, the taller one had blue jeans as they can see.

What they saw next ceased their movements, Lori's heart stopped and Leni gasped at the top of her lungs, a gasp even she never thought possible.

Those blue eyes was the first thing both sisters soley places their focus on, the same eyes they knew since they were there in the hospital to see them open...their baby brother's eyes. Eyes that told the story of innocence and insecurity, now they spun the tale of strength and immense tire from the clearly visible bags under them.

He has grown...look at him an adult now...no words...no words...

Leni finally found the courage and control of her voice. "Lin-Linky?"

He sighed, a small smile tugging his lips. "Hey big sister..."

Before anyone could say anything else another voice broke out, this one unfamiliar to the Loud women.

"Dad?" Logan came into view, both females spun their heads on the boy who faltered a bit under thier wide eyed stare, he came up to his father and hid behind his legs.

Lori placed a hand on her mouth. "Oh my god..."

Leni could only react the only way she could...

"TINY LINKY!?"

 **~oOo~**

 **And that's a wrap!**

 **Chapter done and I hope y'all enjoyed!**

 **Leave a review please and tell me what ya think.**

 **Also! Check out my other Loud House stories!**

 **If ya like Linc being sent to an alternate dimension and coming back, check out: I'm Back and Not the same**

 **Till then, Hound Out!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well guess who's back.**

 **Been awhile, hasn't it? Well I'm back so why not see what I can do with this little story of mine.**

 **Now we made it to the part where Linc has finally confronted a small piece of his past. The return to his and wife's hometown, and now the confrontation of his two oldest sisters. The well known cinnamon roll, air-headed, good natured beauty of a dunce, and the equally well known bossy, literally abused the word literally, equally beautiful, hotheaded blonde dictator.**

 **Oh! And Logan...can't forget Logan. Now we see he stands: confused, slightly scared, shy, and curious. And them him...in a way.**

 **Along with the state of their world: the continuing fight with Black-Pox; the recent surges of violence by Lost Cause; the growing violence in Eastern Europe; Melody's constant demand in the form of contracts; the Anarchist attacks in the U.S—whoops! Giving off more than I should...hehe~ y'all are gonna have to wait for that.**

 **Now! Story time...**

"Talking..."

 _'Thinking/Inner Thoughts...'_

 _[Texting...]_

 **~oOo~**

 **Back to the learning...**

 **Unknown Melody Facilty...**

 **2027...**

A familiar screen laid still, mounted onto the wall of the dark room, only illuminated by the light projected from said screen as a lovely hum of a female resonated from it, filling the room in the lovely sound of her synthetic voice.

The familiar form of the A.I. Anya gently moved her feet to the rhythm as the speakers projected her noise for her to enjoy. A soft fill of pianos and violins with a hint of cellos in the mix. The advanced artificial intelligence was surrounded in a mess of files, live feeds of surveillance images, video and audio files. In the background was a digital hilltop that blowed artificial winds, causing her dress to slightly ripple and flow from the 'breeze', alongside her brown locks.

She stopped suddenly, all life ceased as her motion sensors caught the presence of a familiar other. Sighing in relief when it wasn't an intruder as she didn't want to the go through the whole ordeal of a fight that would lead to kicking, screaming, her watching as guards do their thing, and ending in a literal 'BANG' to the forehead. No, instead she grew her trademark, sunny smile as she quickly turned to face you, the very reader.

With an excited wave. "Hey! Your back! You have no idea how happy I am. I mean- I mean," stumbling with her words with a slight stutter, "I was afraid you decided to leave and say goodbye to this crappy story." Mentioned she can fourth wall...right? "But nope! You didn't and your back!" Her eyes grew in size alongside her happiness as her coded green irises glew brightly, a small flow of code filled her pupils. "Now I'm sure your here to continue on with our lesson rig—Oh..." Stopping herself as she saw the mess covering her screen.

Anya rubbed the back of her head with an embarrassed smile gracing her soft features. "Heh' my bad there." With a quick snap of her left fingers all the files, feed, and information rearranged themselves quickly, efficiently, and smoothly without a hitch to her work.

"Alright." With another snap of her fingers a file materialized in her hands, quickly opening it up and flipping through it in speeds far faster than that the naked human eye can catch, unless augmented with artificial implants. Her eyes skimming along in an insane pace of her information flipping, hands a blur as well.

"Ah! Here." But before she was to display her find, the A.I fizzed, a high pitched squeak and shuddering gasp escaped her lips as her form's outline spasmed for a good second. Stopping herself before she could loose her footing, Anya regained her balance, the artificial breeze lost its power as her dress and hair stopped flowing. Instead her locks were frizzed and frilled in loose strands.

"Dang it!" Once again: glitches. A bane of her short existence. She doesn't even know where that one came from. Comes and goes for the past two months now, annoying beyond belief. She knows for sure nothing is entirely wrong with her...she hopes. One thing is sure: she's glad she hasn't spazzed while on a mission, wouldn't want to accidently have an highly explosive, nearly two hundred grand, missile landing on their guys.

Straightening out her hair as she smooths out her dress, closing her eyes with a tap of her foot the winds return. Finding her center of peace, her same old smile came back, though a little sheepish now.

"S-sorry about that." Casting an embarrassed gaze down, a pink glow taking over her body's outline. "Glitches and all...that..."

...poor girl...

But she always looks towards the positive...

"But that won't stop me." Stars in her eyes—literally—as she held coded determination within her.

So there's that...

Clapping her hands together, "Alright, back to our lesson." Tossing the file up above her head, it dissolved into nothingness as her body faded away with her waving with a wink of her right eye. A 2D image of the Earth took over the entire screen. All the continents were color coded with their respective colors, **POPULATION** bolded and shown, and an assortment of equally familiar black and orangey blobs and specks peppered the map as small regions highlighted and outlined in red with the words **LOST** and **REFUGEE** bolded as well.

A snap echoed through the room as the map shifted and spun and rolled against itself, forming into a 3D, real time, revolving image of the planet, tilted slightly on its axis as a mini moon was also constructed.

She's the type of girl who likes to add a bit of style in her presentations.

"That's better." With a deep breath and a whisper of, "Come on girl, you can do this...you got this, you got this. Don't screw up. If you screw up your screwed and if your screwed then this story is screwed and if that's screwed then your a failure of an A.I and a failure of a daughter!"

Jesus...

She's not much of a teacher.

What sounded like a literal slap to the face by oneself resonated as she gulped for 'air'.

"Ok. You must be wondering what we are going to review as of right now." The words LOST and REFUGEE were underlined and bolded into yellow and blue respectively. "That'll be the LCZ and RZ. Or, in other words, the Lost Cause and Refugee Zones. Simply just Zones since it's all the same to the world now. Though it does get a bit...umm..." trying to find the right word. "Complicated...yeah..."

Red lines sprouted from the revolving Earth as boxed images appeared with them. Each held the same resemblance of a mess: broken and trashed buildings, ghettos filled to the brim with people—many with automatic weapons standing by or roaming the streets. Said people looking worse for wear. Other pictures showed utter, complete slums. Some were like a wet dream for any post apocalyptic enthusiast as the dreariness and lack of any life at all instead from the tangled messes of run down concrete jungles; visual frames zooming in and out, nature taking control of what she thinks is hers.

Fucked. The best word to describe the scenes.

What has happened to the world?

Simple...she was fucked, but not consensual mind you.

Anya's voice rang out. "I believe you have an idea, but let me add some clarity."

Being who she is, Anya has great clarity and a myriad of emotions. It is scarily close to that as any other human. Alongside other aspects of our species. One of which is stress. If she was an actual person—flesh and blood—then one would've caught the sight of dark bags under her eyes from the increasing amount of work piled on her with the growing number of contracts, missions, and monitoring of Melody's assets and equally sizing demand from those willing to pay. Inside the inner workings of her complex mind she had spilt apart herself into eight fragments; each simultaneously performing a specific task just so she can play teacher today.

It's taxing.

Thus the price of being the heart and soul of Melody.

The images were pulled apart as she hummed lightly her little tune as they were minimized for another folder of pictures, each were from her last 'lesson' of the Black-Pox pandemic. Showcasing the masses of people fleeing, pushed back by soldiers garbed in full MOPP gear and the likes, all in gas masks as they aim their weapons on increasing crowds, a five second video on repeat of two men tossing bodies in a ditch, alongside medical records and regions highlighted on the globe.

"If you can recall, twenty-six-years-ago the Black-Pox pandemic had begun, only to stop four years later after initial outbreak. From the years 2001 to 05."

The images faded, the Earth quickly swiveled to showcase the Eastern side. Afghanistan and Russia were highlighted as a mini sickle and star along with black and white images originating from the Cold War shone.

She sighed. "Having its roots going as far back to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan." A picture of a buried facility under the sand and surrounded by other natural formations popped up. "With their war lost, the damaged done and their bio weapon experiments forced to be put down during their pullout of the region, the dirty little secrets would be later unearthed."

The year: **2001** formed at the bottom of the screen as the Earth shifted into its pre pandemic days. Borders changed, no blobs or specks.

Anya sighed again as she didn't want to recount the details of this horrible time, but as the 'teacher' and her must in following her orders given to her by her superiors, she sucked it up. She knows very well that sugar coating just makes it worse and a hell of a lot more wasteful since it's easier to tell it as it is. So she prepared to give the rundown.

"And as you also recall, with the growing distrust and hatred towards the west, and its influences and involvement in conflicts many voiced they had no right to intervene solely for their interests, has resulted in the rise of groups wanting to take the fight to them the only way they know how." Her tone shifted into a unimpressed drawl. "But you also remember how that BLEW up in their faces." Signifying with the spread of red lines from a highlighted Middle East towards the rest of the world with the word: **SPREAD** highlighted. **2001** shifting through the four years 'till ending at **05** and a new Earth.

A rectangular image took over the right portion of the screen as biological symbols shown themselves with complicated equations and photos of people infected with the darkly colored, protruding spots, leaking in a viscous combination of blood and dark fluid.

She continued. "The idiots believed what they found were chemical weapons as most of the data in the labs were gone and shredded. We all know it wasn't as its obvious to tell the difference...but what's done is done. The Earth, she keeps spinning, and man keeps living."

With a relived sigh, she can finally start on the actual lesson as the recap has gone far longer than it should. With a slight hum the Earth reverted back to the modern time with **2027** on the bottom right corner.

"Now the Zones." She stated as she had the Earth revert back to its 2D map form, the fabricated, digital moon fading away into nothingness. She had specific areas of the map outline in a yellow highlight. "Let's cover the Refugee Zones first, shall we?" Though it wasn't much of a question she just wanted to make it seem like you the reader had some say.

Regions throughout Asia, Eastern Europe, Africa, South and Central America were highlighted in the yellow as images stemmed and flowed depicting violence and mass civil unrest as they shifted and changed in size and shape with numbers coming and going as Anya tried to find her words.

"Though the virus wasn't extinction level—thank god. It was enough to hit man hard. How hard? Well...hard enough to cause an influx of regional wars, economic crashes, alongside with a multitude of other political and social issues...and a whole lot of 'I blame you!' Types of deals going on."

Out of nowhere a graph filled the screen with the words: **Melody Profits** on the top. Blue lines shooting up as time goes by.

"Can't deny and say it wasn't good for business and our later growth and influence on later affairs."

War is business after all...

Videos of mass groups of people fleeing their homes became the center of attention, others were caught up in the fighting.

"From these quickly spreading brush fire and civil wars, along with the virus still around, had lead to a mass increase of refugees looking elsewhere as home was deep hell." Death filled the screen as bodies in the same shade of spilt red popped up and went about, each one showing a similar or different death, some even more gorier than the other.

"To accommodate these people, portions of land, varying in size, were set aside into semi-autonomous like Zones. Though this did not stop the frequent clashes amongst the other from differences in tongue, beliefs, color and nationality was still an ever prevalent issue...sadly. I'll never understand why."

All the pictures faded away as she replaced them with the ones from earlier.

"Forming into mass slum areas and later used as cheap labor from the nations that held them on a tight leash. It wasn't long until they directed their anger towards their oppressors." Violent videos of civil unrest played as a Zone in East Europe was set aflame by the refugees who found their hands on weapons: stolen or makeshift. "And later their hate on the rest of the...world..."

Though, in actuality, there are more reasons for these hostile tensions as the virus had, in a way, acted as the catapult for the disturbed world and its citizens...

More and more of these Zones fought back as rallies were held, weapons aimed high, bodies kissing the ground as they made a puddle of red, people fighting and tearing the other apart, fire bombs dropped on unsuspected soldiers set ablaze in mass of hellish flames as they're shot to death by their own out of mercy, bodies were hung and paraded through the broken streets. Voices echoed from the screens, insurgency sparked—"I think that's enough for now..."

 **One doesn't need to be a genius...**

"But, adding to that. In reality it's inappropriate in a way to dub them as refugees in this current day and age seeing how these Zones have gone on their own path. Through the fighting gave rise to what's now called Insurgent States, but the term Zone is universal and common." She gave a nonexistent shrug. "It's only called refugee just to differentiate the two. Though the term Insurgent Zones have popped up and taken hold in recent years, not very long ago in fact. Hence with the growing troubles that now evolved into this current war on terror."

Her voice echoed as she had the screen cleared. "Now, the Lost Cause Zones."

 **To put two and two together...**

As the highlighted regions that made up the Refugee Zones faded off into darkness the specks and blobs across the map glowed a bright orange as images took over and overlapped the other, showcasing the same images like before of areas lost in time, taken over by nature, and walled off from the rest of society. Soldiers in gas masks pushing back crowds of people trying to find a way out of hell but were instead shot or beaten back.

"It isn't hard to really explain what a LCZ is. It's in the name. Just that...a Lost Cause. Areas deemed too dangerous to take back that it was best to just pen the people there and see what happens...that was the plan," her voice was distant. "See if the virus would wipe them out."

An explosion rocked the room as the screen was engulfed into an recorded video from first and third perspective as the former came from the body cams of troops and the latter from other recording devices. Bullets flew from rifles as all sides were thrown into a mess of attrition. The Uniforms caught off guard from the sudden ambush of men and women garbed in ruined clothing, and handling an assortment of weapons, raise hell on all sides.

"Things went...a different path..."

Drone footage showed the burnings of flags from various nations, hands clenched in fists punching the air as men lend their voices and speak towards the masses. More and more of these mass demonstrations took hold...and not just in the Zones.

Alongside were more images, but it was of Melody as it showed the similar graphs and rise in charts from profits; men and women in suits shaking hands as deals were made, and the iconic PMC sending their own to fight off the rapidly growing insurgency along with providing aid wherever and whenever they can.

Melody's symbol took over the screen as Anya manifested herself fully. Blinking her eyes as she stayed frozen for a good second before a map of Russia overlapped the symbol.

Shaking her head, she gave an apologetic stare while casting her eyes towards the map. "Looks like we have to cut off here, sorry about that but I need to take care of this." With a smile and a wave, "Till next time, Anya out..."

 **~oOo~**

 **Heh' tiny Linky...**

 **Royal Woods, Michigan...**

 **1217 Franklin Avenue...**

 **New Loud Residence...**

 **2027...**

There are times when Lincoln would greatly enjoy a nice swig of burning liquid fire going down his throat as it envelops his gut and chest in a nice, snug warmth as he fucks up his liver a bit more...

These are one of those times...

He expected a lot from all of this. Hell, he knew sooner or later he will have to confront those he left behind in what's called a past. Family, those he once called friends—everything. His wife included as she has hers and he him.

That doesn't mean he was prepared. He learned through the hard way that constantly planning the expected would end in a fire of a whole other direction instead of the intended path he mapped in his head. Like driving: road blocks, potholes, a dumbass running through the road of all things while the light is green (he has thought on what if he didn't stop...), and a whole lot of other derailments.

A chill wind blew against them. His face pelted slightly as his hair parted and danced with it, Logan was still holding onto his pant leg, the young father placed a hand on top of his boy's grey locks. The child gazing back up at his father with those big ol' eyes of his before looking back at what he dubbed the 'pretty blonde ladies.' Logan was never one for new people so this was expected from his father.

So here they stood. Silence reigned supreme; ironic from the four named Loud...well, Santiago now in Lori's case...actually, yeah, four. Heh' dumbass forgot about the love of his life sitting idly back in his Mustang, no doubt she took the time to study this soon to be storm of a silent play. Might prove useful material for her book. Though she knew silence better than him, he merely had to adjust to it whenever given it.

...oh...yeah...back to the subject...

 _'Lori...Leni...'_

In the time they all stood, he took in their appearances and saw the same, yet different, women who stood by him for a good portion of his life. Though he never had the greatest relationship with Lori, he still, and always, will love her. It's just...it's a lot to take in. Five years is a hell of a long time. Truth be told he never imagined Lori of all people into real estate, his mind usually wandered towards a respected, but no doubt feared, manager at some big company or something along those lines. But hey, that's life...you never know...

He never kept tabs...

But Leni? Hell everyone that loves fashion or has a teenaged shopping obsessed daughter knows her and her creations. He knew she would make it big, her dreams a reality. He hoped for the best for all of them as they had their paths laid out for them way before his...who's he kidding, never had one to begin with.

He doesn't mind though.

They were beautiful, they always were. The eldest blondes of the Loud siblings. They each, all ten, held their own beauty and styles solely unique to them and them only, but these two...he remembers clearly all the boys back in day lining up just to get close to Leni if not her number, Lori too. Well, before Boo Boo Bear came into the picture. Leni in a pair of designer clothing no doubt made by her hands, clinging to her lovely figure nicely as Lori wore a combination of light and dark blue business attire specially made and should be worn in a situation as this.

But he had other things on his mind than just them.

His old home...

His eyes left theirs, yet they weren't really even looking at him anymore, the two older females were only focused on Logan. Tears parted from Leni's eyes as they threatened to spill and pave a trail on her cheeks, a hand on her mouth after her screech that echoed through the neighborhood. How their mother didn't hear...ehhh' old age if one has to guess. Though she isn't that old...

Unlike her wobbly legged, dunce of a little sister, Lori was in a different, yet somewhat similar, state of her own. The dictator of a phone-a-holic held an...expression...she was everywhere if that makes sense. Unable to stand in one place, instead the blonde woman paced herself in a continuing path of back and forth and forth and back, left and right. Her heels clicking and clacking against the pavement with her right hand running through her yellow locks as her left shook with her phone she held as a lifeline...so nothing really new on the latter.

In a hoarse whisper, "Oh my god..." Almost completely inaudible to all. Her eyes never left Logan's. Her blue met his brown, a shiver went through her spine, if not her entire being. Not from just the mere sight of him but from how he stared back.

Those eyes were a shade of brown so dark it's best to almost call them black. A lack of any color that she barely even saw his pupils at all if the sun wasn't there to shine. They held a pitch darknesses that brought her unease from how he...he studied her? No...from how he examined her soul. That's how it feels. Like if he saw every misdeed of her past, her faults and cracks...

She didn't like it...but he...he...he's just HE!

 _'GAAAAGHHHHH!'_ She felt the inner need to scream and roar. She felt...she didn't even know where to start. That child! That fucking boy!

That's...her nephew...

God...

He was the result...the aftermath from that time...the pregnancy stick on the table from the shaky hands of a sixteen-year-old boy unable to look them in the eyes as he uttered with whatever bravery he had in him—"It's mine" those five years ago.

A boy...not a girl...

Her eyes, after all this time, left her nephews. Forgetting the moments that lead to this. Forgetting the frustration of having to listen to her sisters nonense of babble. Forgetting the impatience of having to wait for her buyer...her brother. The insane laughter and the honking and—ALL OF IT.

Her brother...he wasn't the same boy she knew from before. No. Not even close.

The way he stood, how his eyes flickering between the streets, trees, flower beds, the old grouches house (may he Rest In Peace), their childhood home. His eyes told a story she wasn't sure she even wanted to know. She saw enough from those blue orbs. Compared to hers his was far more worn, tired, sunken, a lack of any light and old joys.

But the boy? Remembering Logan's. His, even though she felt chilled, his eyes told innocence like any other child, confusion and curiosity that mimics a young puppy.

His child...

Her shaky hands fell to her sides, clenching into fists. Her phone's screen cracking.

There it is...

After all this time, after all the turmoil and running emotions of a scar that may have already healed enough for their lives to go on, he's back. He's FUCKING back.

There's the Lori we all know...

'Hey big sister.' The only thing he could say, even if it wasn't directed to her. Even then, alongside Leni, she felt a vice like imaginary rope grip her heart, her breath taken away, all her functioning stopping for a good minute when she heard it...his voice...

 **He left...**

 _'No! Stop it.'_ Firmly taking back control of herself; her mind and emotions. By god she wanted to do something. She wanted to hit him...she wanted to hug him...she wanted...what did she want? What?

 **He left like a coward...**

He did. Damn right he did. A fact she and many others had and will hold against him for some time. Something he knows fully as he must live with that.

She closed her eyes as hot breaths left her nostrils. She fought back her emotions as she realized, right then and there, he was her client...he was her paycheck right now. She opened her eyes and didn't see her brother. No. She saw her salary. Biting back her creeping anger, Mrs. Santiago carefully found her footing and walked over to her client. Leni raising a hand as she tried to stop Lori, but the cinnamon bun was nowhere near able to produce words sans choked whimpers.

Lincoln took a breath of his own, finding his balls he was about to move too. He was going to confront what he left behind. He had to. Can't just let it slide like this and expect everything to be ok and dandy. That's not how it works. Everyone, and he means everyone, will have something to say.

But a voice ceased that.

"Dad...do you know these ladies?" Logan, bless his little soul, mustered up his courage and stepped up. Asking what was on his mind. Though he has a pretty good idea on who these two were to his father and him. He just needed...something. Words! He needed words! Logan is all for silence, when the situation was right, but not one like this.

Leni finally made a sound, though it was a high pitched whimper that she once more covered her mouth with her hand as she shook and nearly fell onto her behind. Eyes shut, a few tears made their choice and broke rank, streaming down her cheeks as she gasped for a bit of air. Unable to even look at the child anymore when their eyes met. He looked too much like him...it was too much for her right now.

A hint of sorrow and regret clouded a bit of Linc's eyes when he saw the heart wrenching sight of his second oldest sister struggle with her emotions that he felt like a complete bastard for all that happened. Can this be fixed?

Maybe...maybe not...who knows...

What's done is done, simple as that.

The Contractor shook his head as he regained his sense of clarity. He knew this isn't the time.

All the while, Lori ceased her movements all together, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find the words. Ending the same way this whole ordeal went through, not a damn word was said. The only thought in her head from Logan's little question with a lot of meaning behind it: Did he even tell him?

"Lo—" Unable to even say his sons name when the sound of the passenger side door of his car clicked opened.

 _'Lo...'_ Lori blinked when she just figured she didn't even know his name. She can make a guess. Right now though, her eyes, along with her little sister's was on the pair of ghostly pale legs flawlessly maneuvering from the Mustang.

What she saw made her jaw drop once more, something that has been going on damn too many times already. Leni's emerald orbs, though blurry from her tears, were able to make out the woman who came into view. She may be...slow (nicest way to describe her) but even she of all people had an idea on who it was that slowly walked up towards her long lost baby brother...and her nephew...

"No way..." Mrs. Toots-a-lot mouthed. It may have been awhile, but being the dutiful, ' _responsible',_ older sister she was, she was familiar with those her sisters and brother hung out with and brought back home, with the whole 'friend over equals benefits' that resulted in a huge brawl about ten-years-ago.

That's a story for another time...heh'...

Her brain was forced to work harder than it ever had before, finally she put two and two together...

Her?

Hair, black as midnight let to hang loose and freely, blowing slightly from the wind. Flawless skin that held a ghostly color like her goth of a baby sister, a combination of purples and black making up her clothing color scheme. Her purple colored and black lined dress flowing like her hair, hugging her hourglass figure nicely. She held a combo of both mysterious and motherly in her aura for someone as young like her.

That eye. Just one as the other was shrouded by her black locks.

Now Lori saw where the child got it from. The skin and the eyes...like mother like...son...

But unlike the boy's, his mother's was another story. Her orb, though same in color and shade as her child, was far more darker in Lori's view. The chill she felt before intensified. And, like her brother, hers told a story similar to his: worn. They both held eyes that seemed far too old for someone as young as them.

Or that is how it was going on until Logan spoke up as his mother got close enough where he let go of his fathers pant leg and moved towards her with eyes full of curiosity and burning questions. Haiku bent over and took hold of her little bat and hoisted him up, cradling the boy in her left arm as he cuddled up closer to her.

"Mama," the boy started. Both Linc and Haiku saw how the sisters reacted, almost like they were punched by reality itself. Lori more so as she nearly choked on her spit. Even though she knew from just looking and comparing it...Jesus it was...it was...something.

Leni, her poor heart, her poor mind, her poor fragile self was overloaded from all of this. The pieces finally shown in front of her that even though she wished for this day—prayed for this day, she didn't know where to start. She needed confirmation, quickly the fashion designer forced herself to lock eyes with her brother. All of this emotion spilling out from barely, if any, words exchanged at all. It was just her nephew that said anything after her justifiable freak out. And Lincoln knew what she wanted. It hurt, it hurt like hell to not be able to run up and hug him like she wanted; to glomp him and hold him tight when they were younger, for her to just feel him was part of her prayers. For her to be the auntie she always wanted to be.

He nodded.

With that, Leni had one thought in her small mind when she took another glance at the woman holding her nephew.

 _'She's beautiful...'_

Logan struggled a bit with his words. The five-year-old not enjoying the stares from the two pretty ladies. Tightening his hold against his mother. "What's happening?"

What is happening indeed?

Haiku took a quick moment to gather her thoughts before she took a breath and simply said, "A long awaited reunion." Her voice still devoid of any emotion. Taking another quick look between the blondes, she shrugged. "Long." She emphasized. Running her fingers through her child's grey strands as he tilted his head like a puppy.

...till it hit him. The boys eyes widened. "Oh" He silently whispered. He didn't know if he should be excited or scared. Really it was odd in situations like these as Lo had a hard time when it came to situations like these. Any situations to be honest.

Lincoln nodded as he scratched the back of his head before sighing. "Oh ya..."

Scratch the burning desire for a drink he rather be sent to a Lost Zone of all places right now.

Fuck it. He was done. He wanted to get this done. Now and then. He made the plan, he acted on said plan, so has his love. He can't let this shit storm stall any longer, the day isn't forever and whatever must be done hasn't.

Closing his eyes as he took a deep breath through his nose, he took a step forward, all eyes on him. Not like anything new to be totally honest.

What can he say? Is there even a word that can make amends of all that transpired? A simple sorry isn't gonna cut it, nor any other word or full sentence that involves said word. There's no other way to put it that there is no excuse, like he could find one in general. Only cowards place the blame on others for the actions that are theirs and theirs alone; he wasn't gonna fall under that category.

He fucked up he knew that.

His wife followed after him as she wrapped a free hand around his, giving him a quick reassuring squeeze which he returned gratefully. Never leaving the eyes of his sisters as Lori had to hold a flinch from his stare. Leni was lost in trying to find her baby brother within each one.

"H...I..." He bit the inside of his cheek to the point he tasted the familiar, but welcomed, iron his blood. It brought him a sense of morbid comfort. Grinding his teeth in frustration.

 _'Fuck it.'_ He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders. Say what he has to say. He doesn't care anymore.

"Where do I even...there's nothing I can say." All ears and eyes were opened and on him, taking his words like a sponge in water. Lifting his free hand as he let it smacked against his leg. "We all know how this will go. And I'm not even sure if I'm ready for it, pfft...who the fuck is?" Whispering the last part for obvious reasons. "I don't even know where to start."

For all his life Logan has always seen his father as the man with the plan, his hero, his idol, heh' super dad even. But for the first time in his young life this young Loud never thought he would see this side of his old man. All the boy can do is watch and listen.

Running his fingers through his hair. "I don't even if I can say sorry. Not like it'll mean anything."

It's not like he's following a script. He's just a man.

It took Leni all her power, right then and there, not to bolt towards her brother. The ditz couldn't take it as she quickly took steps towards her brother, his masked pain easy to detect and decipher as she took part in watching and helping him grow when he was not even close to her shoulders years before.

She barley even made it at all when Lori caught her in a vice grip, the blonde fashion designer wincing with a high pitch yelped as she felt the dagger like nails of her sister dig into her skin through her long sleeved, white, turquoise lined shirt.

Unconsciously, without any notice, even from himself, Linc's free hand clenched into a quick fist from the sight of his sisters discomfort. Some instincts just don't die.

Leni writhed and tried to, but no avail, to escape the agents grasp. "Lori, stop! It hurts, let—" She squealed once more when Lori placed more strength in her claws, silencing the blonde dolt.

Deep down, she felt disgusted for having to do this to her baby sister. But she had to make it clear that there's a line and it wasn't meant to be crossed. Sadly, even after all these years, she still believes her words and actions are law. No wonder this lead to an increasing number of fights after his absence. Hell' more so than before.

But what really stopped Leni completely in her tracks was that...smile. A simple smile that grew on her big sisters lips as she gave a simple stare towards the family of three, visibly unsettling Logan as the boy saw something within those green eyes. As fake as the ideas of peace on their world. In Leni's view it was digusting, it was wrong, it was...painful to stare for long—let alone a minute!

To Lincoln it was nothing unusual. A gesture seen time and time again in his line of work. Didn't mean he took kindly to it. He knew Lori and he knew her well. Haiku simply brushed it away without a single care given, or, that's what she would usually do, if she didn't catch the line her...sister in law kept her stare leveled on. Linc saw it too.

Logan. Her sights were on Logan.

Judgement? Or was it disgust? No...she can't quite place it but it was something. It looked like...blame.

For what then? For what crime is he guilty of then? His birth? Or was it his conception? Something he had no say in any. For what is it then?

Haiku wasn't one for violence...scratch that. COMMITTING violence is better said. Writing drawing or envisioning it? Heh' that's fair game for her. But the more her _dear_ "sister" in law stared at her baby boy in such a manor the more the mother wanted to sock her one. But a quick squeeze from her love stopped that...for now.

Leaving Logan, the dictator held a out towards her brother, taking him back before he could even register she swiftly dropped it without a single care given or even a change in her expression.

That smile...

Finally she opened her mouth, what came out was equally as sickening. "Well sir," he flinched slightly from that, "it seems you finally arrived and with your...family no doubt." It was all so fake, so spiteful but well hidden. Unnoticed, her teeth grounded together as she continued, her "smile" twitching downwards. "I say we should take our ordeal inside and wrap up with the signature and see if everything is in place." Without another word said as she didn't give them a chance, Lori spun on her foot and walked towards the house, sparring a quick glance at the young Loud family. "Oh, and I hope you don't mind MY SISTER accompanying us." She placed GREAT emphasis on Leni. "She couldn't wait to see who bought this old house."

Lincoln could only stare longingly at her retreating form. "Lori..." he whispered. Biting his lip with another long sigh leaving him.

The Contractor was brought back when he felt the familiar soft pair of lips upon his cheek along with a smooth, delicate hand trace his jaw. Sparring his love a quick glance she gave him one of her rare smiles. It was enough to fill him with warmth and resolve. He smiled back. Looking over to his boy, he gave his son a pat on his head, his smile never wavering from his sons attempt to stop him.

"Dad!" The kid whined, pouting from his fathers chuckles, though the boy hid his own smile.

 _'We're in this together...'_

 **~oOo~**

 **School Sucks...**

 **Royal Woods Elementary...**

Time ticked by slowly as usual in the prison known as the public education system, or, simply, school. But for eleven-year-old Lily Loud, she didn't mind. Heck she enjoyed this day. Why? Well it's simple, her teacher wasn't really into it today, so he gave them a free day of all things.

Humming lightly to herself as her ears were filled with her favorite sound from her special selection of different bands, the youngest of the Louds kicked her feet back and forth as she skimmed through article after article of news that was posted this morning or the last hour.

News articles? Really Lilster? Hey don't be one to judge, everyone has their likes and interests and this is one of hers. Her whole life she was filled with boundless curiosity with it her surroundings and now the world as a whole. She knows enough to understand it's not a happy place—far from it. Some may even say it's not even grey any more, it's black. Pitch black. Makes sense she supposes...seeing how the last 26 years was a page of horror and chaos that slowly came and went as time passed.

But unlike most, she tries to see the positive.

But it was hard. God was it hard. Her eyes were focused on a picture from CNN of a band of people garbed in hoods and metallic coated masks etched and molded into a chilling desgin of emotionless faces exchange fire between Riot Units.

 **Clashes Continue!**

Said the title as a mob of fire swirled around the streets of Atlanta as the suns early rays are clouded from smoke and debris.

 **'Marking the 12th riot turned deadly in the past month alone, Atlanta was struck by the increasing numbers of Anarchists early this morning leading to a demonstration of automatic gunfire and blood instead of signs and chants.'**

Her fingers glided through her phone as she swiped between pictures. Stopping at the stilled image of paramedics and armed police work their way through covered bodies and the wounded. She frowned as her heart swelled with sorrow.

 **'An estimated 25 civilians killed. With at least 8 officers and 11 of the Anarchists.'**

 _'So much pain...'_ Her heart clenched. Thus the cruel reality of her world. Poor girl doesn't even know the half of it, let alone a start.

 **'Last week alone SWAT units in Boston raided a suspected underground ralley finding with them an assortment of weapons and members of Lost Cause within their ranks as well. Each of the 8 suspected members were linked to originate from Berol, an Insurgent Zone in Germany.'**

Another photo showed the hooded and masked men and women bounded, on their bellies, muzzles against their heads from powerful rifles. A look of disgust clearly visible like the sky in summer from the balaclava garbed officer's eyes. One Anarchist, unmasked, snarled, drooling, and mad like a rabid animal; eyes bloodshot, tanned skin bloody and bruised as his sniffer leaks blood from both nostrils from a broken nose.

 **'There have been other linkings in the past decade or so since the emergence of these radicals. Many of whom holding ties towards the powerful, worldwide, terror group. With the growing attacks comes to the increase of fear and paranoia as the question is asked: who is safe? Are we?'**

Once her song ended, alongside her eyes with the final sentence of the news paragraph, Lily jumped from the sudden noise of the bell ringing above their heads. Mr. Riley groaned in annoyance as he placed a hand against his forehead.

"Can't a guy be with his hangover in peace?"

Yeah...she's not saying he isn't the best teacher—because he is. He just has one of those days.

"Whatever." He growled. The brown haired man rolled his shoulders, waving off the kids. "Art time. Now get out of here ya little monsters." Placing his own headphones on as he leaned back against his seat with shut eyes and a sigh.

So when the little fifth grade sheep left the shepard, Lily lagged back, deciding to take her time as she wasn't in any hurry what's so ever. Instead focused on her phone, maneuvering past other kids. Already knowing her locker location by heart, the light purple skirted Loud turned a hard right and was face to face with it.

Placing her phone away, she smiled when she quickly opened her locker to find her drawing pencils. A happy hum left her when she was about to depart to her favorite class of the day.

Leni had her fashion, Luna, her music, Lucy, her poetry, Lola, her graceful dancing, and now Lily, her drawings and photographs. It's like art runs in the family. Tilting her head, in a way she can even say her fathers cooking could be considered one too.

Passing through the door that lead to her domain...heh' Lily waved her hand over towards her small group of friends who returned in kind. A pep in her step from the multiple stools behind the back facing blank canvases held by their easels. With an apron in hand along with her pencils and laid out paint, Lily took a seat.

A nice looking fair skinned woman entered the class, a patchwork designed apron hugging her body and filled with stains of paint, charcoal, ink and all other sorts of art medium. Hair dyed a vibrant, bright green stopping at her shoulders. She gave her class a smile.

Clapping her hands together. "Alright guys! Today is gonna be different. How so? Well today I want you all to paint from the heart."

That's pretty cliche but ok.

"Create something that brings you happiness or makes you feel happy. It can be anything—nothing is limited. Now, you'll have the remainder of class to do so. Have fun."

Some of the class stars already dug in and began to sketch whatever came up, makes sense they were Ms. Favel's favorites. Others were at a lost, one kid shrugged with a muttered—"Screw it." And began to just throw, in the literal sense, globs of paint against his canvas. But Lily, well Lily was tapping her pencil against her chin. Humming in thought as she was at a lost as well.

 _'Something that makes me happy.'_

That can be anything: family—a big one, they meant the world to her. Friends, chocolate, her Nintendo. No. She didn't want to make it simple. She wanted to draw what her heart wanted—what it held. The question is what.

Biting her lip, she snapped her fingers as an idea popped up. Sliding her phone out and going to pictures she was met with a show of various images she took of either reference, or just cause, or because she wanted to look back at the memory for a long while. Each photo she stopped by made her happy, each one held a close relationship with her heart but...she doesn't know.

There was one with her and Lana. Her dirt loving mechanic of an older sister holding Lily close with her arm as she raises a wrench and sticks her tongue out. The fifteen-year-old twin and eleven-year-old creating a memory. Another is with her and Lynn before her big game behind a stadium; a grin on her sporty sis's face as she had a fire in her eyes ready to kick ass.

All were the same. Each one of her and her sisters and parents. But none of them struck her...that is...before she froze mid swipe at a photo of a photo. His clear blue eyes stared right at her, a smile on his face with his white hair a bit of a mess. Her heart swelled with a quick burst of loss and pain.

 _'Linky..."_ She forgot. Genuinely she forgot she even had this saved in her phone. The first picture she took when she was given it. Instead of swiping, her finger slowly traced is features, she took him all in, in fine detail.

He was fourteen right there. First day of high school. She was four, but she remembers...she remembers a lot. How he kissed her on the forehead and she returned in kind on his cheek when they went to their respective schools.

 _'Be good, baby girl.'_ His voice echoed through her mind, shaking her soul. A slight gasp left her lips, she shook in her seat.

His kindness, his hugs, his kisses, his love and his promises for her and her alone...she remembered.

A drop of water fell onto her screen. Her eyes wet and in need. Her lip quivered.

How it all changed.

She was just six and that day was burned in her mind for years to come. All that...so much...too many things were said.

She was happy actually—excited even. She was too young to understand at the time the repercussions of his actions would've lead towards, but all she cared about was being an auntie. To have a little one to help look after and act like a big sister towards. Another Loud in their pact.

But life had other plans.

She hoped it was a boy. Deep down she wanted it to be a boy.

She prayed...

Her heart hurts...

Right there. She found it. Without a word, quickly wiping her eyes, she placed her phone on her easel for better visual. Her head filled with his voice and the time they spent before...the bad day, as she calls it, happened.

Pencil on the canvas.

She hoped...

 **~oOo~**

 **Back with the family of three...**

Lori walked them through pretty much everything they needed to know. Her expression still faux and professional; Lincoln knew for damn sure the beast within was pulling on its chains.

It was quite surreal to the two sisters to see a home as old as this renovated to the max. It was brought from 19 something to the 2020's in just a few months time. The constant hustle and bustle of carpenters, movers, electricians, plumbers, and other designers working day in and out for a paycheck, a real good one at that.

Even Lori had to ask: how in the name of god can they afford all of this? It's insane! He's a dropout—both of them are! While she busted her ass to make the earning she does now.

Lincoln rubbed a hand over the stair railing, feeling the intricate textures and flawless designs and patterns of the carved wood, nodding in approval. His wife too as she examined her specifications and saw no problem if any. Logan glanced around in the attempts to escape the Leni's gaze, but from every step he took she followed like a sniper from a bell tower.

Unease was thick in the air for the Louds sans Haiku. She knew it was there but it didn't stop her from admiring her new home.

The real question may be why this house in particular? Why to all of it. It's a pretty simple answer to be honest. Convenience and closeness...plus Linc and Harriet never liked the idea of living in a rich neighborhood. Snobs were far from any of their favorites as they wanted to raise Logan away from that mess.

Before Lincoln could even get a word in the click of a pen stopped him along with a clipboard shoved to his face. Lori tapping her foot as he saw her hand grip the poor board to the point he swore he saw tiny splinters break. Looking back and forth between her and the **X** he sighed and signed his name.

This has gone on enough already.

"Lori," he began. Her back facing him but he saw the stiffness of her shoulders hunch upwards. All the other occupants stopped to watch. Lincoln took a step forward, about to place a hand on her shoulder before she spun around. The two stared at the other, her eyes flickered over to the scars on his face.

Without a word she stepped aside, or that's how he saw it before she stopped suddenly. Facing him again. "Oh, and before I leave, one more thing."

He saw it coming, but he let it happen. Her hand flying towards him as it kissed his cheek, the stinging pain was quick and felt like fire. The cringe worthy sound of skin being smacked resonated through the house. He staggered from her strength, he felt it all from that one slap. Her rage and malice.

"Lori! Dad!" Leni and Logan screamed respectively. The blonde froze in place from the deep heated glare she was given, but the boy didn't as he made his way over to his father.

Pointing a warning finger to the fashionista, "Shut the fuck up!" She growled. Leni whimpered and coward away.

Haiku was never one to show emotion but this was an exception, her hands in fists as she was about to bring this bitch down a peg.

"Love, don't."

Or she was, if her dear husband didn't shake his head. Eye narrowed in growing anger, she was about to retort but he beat it to her.

"Not in front of Logan." Said boy next to his father and looking between his parents. Lincoln shaking his head. "Besides, she's already gone." Right he was when the blonde witch was nowhere to be seen but heard from the screeching of tires and a roar of an engine.

 _'Great start. Hey, at least she didn't knee your balls, so that's something...that's something.'_

So much for a reunion. He wasn't surprised to be honest, he expected as much, though he thought more of a ball stomping or a punch than a bitch slip of all things, didn't mean if didn't hurt, can still feel the sting on his cheek. The discomfort was there. Who knows maybe Lynn would supply a good shiner to the eye, maybe a crooked nose to add to that. Heh' it's like he wants to be beaten. The hell's wrong with him?

"Dad?" Raising a brow before he saw it was Logan who called towards him. The boy visibly worried as he rubbed his arm, shifting his feet, looking back quickly at Leni in slight fear that she may do the same. "Ar...are you ok? Why did she do that? Who was that? What's happening? I don't underst—" The boy hushed from his fathers raised hand.

Kneeling down to the meet the boys height, even though still over towered him. "I'm fine. It's...best not to worry about it."

The boy shook his head, unbelieving from what he was hearing. "No it's not!" He flinched from the stern stare his father gave him. "She-she hit you. That's not right." Twiddling his thumbs, the boy refused to look at his father, finding the floor better.

Lincoln sighed. "I know. But she had a reason...a good one I suppose. People do things when they're angry, Lo...I made her angry." He bit his lip.

"H-h-how? Why?"

Why. A child's favorite word for a long while. The constant need to know even if they shouldn't. But never should anyone fault a child for it, we all were one once.

Linc tried to find the words, but his love beat him to it.

"We ran away." Simple, straight to the point.

"Mama?" His mother carefully walked over to her two boys, kneeling next to her husband. Her focused shifted to her son. She cupped his cheek and slowly caressed it with care. Leaning over for a light kiss on his forehead. Her eye met his as she placed both hands on his small shoulders.

"All will be revealed, I promise." He knew that meant later. But he wanted to know and they knew that...by god they knew that.

How does one even start a conversation like that?

The boy nodded his head. His mother once more pressed her lips on his cheek, and his father rubbing his hand on his shoulder. Though he still had one burning question.

"But who was that?"

"Hehehehe~ ohhhhhh..." Linc sighed. "That...that was Lori...my sister...your aunt, son."

"..." The boy blinked.

"..." The father's lips in a thin line, nodding to show he wasn't lying.

"..." The mother still the same as ever but she still held inner malice towards her.

"..." Leni just stood there...playing with her fingers. She didn't want to interrupt. Still she was fighting back her urge to run and glomp.

Logan shook his head. "Then that...that means," turning around to point at Leni who flinched from all the attention now on her. "That's—she's my..."

"Your aunt Leni, yes."

"Oh..." Well what else is he supposed to say? He knew there were more out there that shared the same blood like him, he was told enough in names and recounts of his parents past, but for all he knew ,and could care for, the only people he could only see as family were the two who brought him into this world, uncle Marcus, uncle Ollie and a few others. Barley a handful at all. He wasn't even sure if he was excited anymore from all that transpired. He barely knew enough as it is. There was a point where his parents refused to tell him more, only guesses made up the rest of the past he wanted to know more of.

And right then and there stands someone new and who shares a piece of him as he her. His auntie in blood.

"Yeah." His father got up, his wife following. "She is." Haiku took hold of her son and lead him away enough for space to be made for the lost siblings. It was like watching some old drama or something to the eyes of boy, but with more cussing.

Leni slowly let her hands drop, in those seconds they shook, then her legs from the first steps she took, soon all of her shook. Unable to take control or hold back, no words said or needed.

Five years. Five goddamn years and this is how it was going to play out, huh? Well he's not complaining. Why should he? He's back. She's here, soon the others. To make amends one has to take the first step, and he wasn't going to wait.

By god she was beautiful. Inches apart, her eyes leaking, wanting—needing to burst the dam. His only held sorrow and regret in a performance of I'm sorry over and over again. The wear and scars on him. Slowly and carefully Leni raised a hand and placed it on his sore cheek, a twitch of his left eye showed her the discomfort from the still lingering pain.

Her breath hitched. "Linky?..."

He smiled, it was small, it was full of love. "I'm not going anywhere." Fighting back the growing lump in his throat. "I...I—Leni I'm sor—"

"LINKY!" The dam broke. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she dove into his chest and sobbed pitifully into him. Her knees buckled and giving up, slowly she descended into the ground with him guiding her. Mascara running, snot staining his hooded coat, wails and choked whimpers escaping her throat. All of it hurting him more than her as he knew he caused this. Like a hand tearing his heart slowly artery by artery, vessel by blood vessel. On the floor he held her tight, she tighter; hands on the others hair as he stroked hers in a soothing manor and she gripping his in the need to hold him. It may hurt but he felt worse...way worse...

Haiku decided to let it slide for once and smiled in the loving scene in front of her. Her son taking in the sight with his own. It made him...happy...why?

Unintelligible gibberish left the dunce's mouth as she was mess of held in hell. Years pouring out in a small time frame, but for her, he was willing to sit this out with her. Rocking her back and forth like he did so with Lily back in the day and his son when moments get tough for them to handle, a hushed whisper of— "I'm here...I'm not leaving..." With a kiss to her temple, her hold tightened as she devolved into a mess of hiccups.

Extending a free arm towards his son. "Lo." He beckoned the boy over, who did such that, though carefully. By that time Leni, though still a teary mess, eyes stained in mascara, was lost in a daze from the boy.

"Tiny Linky..." a hand clasped on her mouth when she was face to face with her nephew.

Lincoln smiled. "It's ok, Lo. Say hi."

The boy nodded. "H-hello au-aunt Leni...I'm Logan..."

She just stared. Looking back on over to Lincoln, he nodded, pushing her slightly. Still on her knees the woman carefully raised a hand over towards her nephew, the boy flinched and so she in kind. Scared he may have been fearful of her Logan then saw she stopped right where his cheek was, he wasn't sure what to do.

"It's ok." Linc nodded.

Looking back at his aunt he took a step forward and leaned closer to her hand, flinching from the foreign limb on his face as he suppressed a shiver that soon morphed into warmth as she caressed his skin with her palm and fingers. Her eyes wide and full of adoration and curiosity with her mouth opened in awe at who was in front of her. She traced his face carefully and as lovingly as she could, her throat constricted from each second that past that she could feel herself choking away.

Logan found himself liking her touch actually. Slowly he leaned into it even more, finding even more warmth.

Leni took her other hand and slowly trailed it through his hair, feeling every strand. Fingers disappearing in the waves of grey.

Logan knew she was a gentle woman. All he needed was a name and he knew, the stories his dad told him was enough to get by. Soon he felt her hands cup his cheeks, she having him look at her by raising his head slightly. A stream of tears gliding downward, pelting the floor like rain drops.

Their eyes interlocked. She was lost in his sea of endless brown and he in her emerald. Before he knew it his auntie leaned forward. Logan stiffened when he felt her lips on his face, right above his right eye, but...he accepted it...he liked it.

"Baby boy..." she whispered, bottom lip quivering.

Before he knew it, she slowly wrapped her arms around him, feeling his back as she brought him into a gentle embrace, the boy not stopping her. His head held between her breasts as he heard her heartbeat. It was therapeutic, he felt...safe...Logan carefully wrapped his arms around her too, gripping her blouse. She laid her chin on top of his head, eyes lost and still teary. He felt water hit him, he didn't mind.

Watching from the ground with a small smile, Lincoln didn't want to ruin moment. Neither did his wife as she continued to smile slightly, her thoughts on Lori leaving her...for now.

The question she has now is:

 _'Why is she staring at me?'_

Right she was when she saw how Leni stared at her, and solely her. Before the confused mother could ask why she saw the blonde stand up, her son letting go, and made her way towards her.

Keeping her usual neutral on her. "We met before, a long time ago, but I can understand if you have forgotten—ahh!" Brought into a quick and surprising hug from the older woman made this young woman widen her eyes in unexpected surprise. Like mother like son indeed when she stiffened exactly like her boy. Startled and not used to such a thing happening to her by others sans her boys and uncle. Not even her father is welcomed when it came to hugs.

She was willing to make exceptions...to some. Her mind was in a bit of panic mode right about now.

 _'Please let go, please let go, please let go—why isn't she letting go?!'_

A snicker made her regress back to the real world, though still stiff and a unwanting of the sudden foreign contact by the blonde. She saw her dear husband laugh at her expression and obvious displeasure. Logan joining in too with a long sleeved hidden hand covering his giggling lips.

 _'Sigh...'_ Finding no way out of this she slowly, and awkwardly, patted her sister-in-law on the back.

Remember this was the ditz of the Loud's we're talking about so it takes time for her to process things...

"OMG!" Her screech startled everyone, more so to Haiku as her ear was right freakin' there!

Letting go of her little sister-in-law and cupping her cheeks with her hands. "MOM!"

 **~oOo~**

 **With Lori...**

 **Somewhere on the road...**

Lori didn't really make it far, a good three to maybe four to five blocks away from...that mess. Her fingers trembled on the wheel as she started to lose control of herself in a myriad of emotions and threatening, and succeeding, in wanting out of their pent up cage known as her head.

Parking her silvery convertible on some lonely road of some equally lonely neighborhood, underneath a pretty little tree, her only company as it provided a type of veil for the Loud daughter and wife of a Santiago. In normal situations she would growl from mess of leaves falling inside her precious, expensive, car, but this time she didn't even notice the red, orangey, yellowy leaves at all. Not even when a few landed and stuck on her head.

No. She was somewhere else.

She was angry, she was sad, she was...lost. Though that may not be an emotion it should in some sense since a good portion of everyone who ever experienced life would and should feel at some point. Hers was a type of lost that dealt with not that of a love one, as she had that already, though she treated his departure with malice and other negative emotions one would throw on a person behind their back. Nah, her's was that she didn't know what to do.

Something she hates...well one of the many things she hates in the interesting tale that is Lori. Really it gets old quick seeing how she sees herself as the calm pact leader, the one who can answer and solve all the problems with an iron fist accompanied by an authoritarian attitude but can't even keep her emotions from telling her what to do and how not to allow it fuck it all.

That's why there's blame. Can't handle the fault? Why just throw it on another! Hell throw it harder even though they already know they did it and are accepting of it! But say fuck it! Ignore it and keep tossing it at them without a single once of standing face to face and talking like adults.

Question is: what is she guilty of, hmm? Oh, it's maybe something, hence all are guilty of something.

The real estate agent narrowed her eyes in hate, her knuckles white from her continuous tightening of her steering wheel, nails even digging into the edges of her palm, some torn skin with some small droplets of running red. It hurt, just didn't seem she noticed. She wanted to actually, really she wanted this pain. Not as punishment, but as a distraction.

What distraction?

Why the stinging sensation of her palm. She can still feel it. Still feel him when she struck his cheek. How her heart ran a marathon of rage, blood coursing faster and stronger once she saw him lose footing and almost collapse under her like the good cowardly dog he was. To beat him over and over again, raking her claws on his skin, watching him bleed was what she wanted to do.

Than why didn't she do it?

She wanted more, to scream at him for running! For being a coward! For hurting mom! Lily! For hurting...her...

He hurt her...he left her...he...the boy...

"Lo..." she whispered...

The same panic from before, the one she masked during their standoff, came running back full speed inside her. All she could think of from that moment was the boy. Her goddamn nephew of all people. Ignoring all other thoughts as he was the center of her focus. Her brother and...his...woman pushed aside.

Her eyes widened, opened and closed, stinging tears threatened to leave her and she hated it. She didn't want these feelings. This wasn't right! This wasn't...what is it then? Why does she feel this?

Guilt?...

FOR WHAT!? Fury morphed in her face, the clenching of the wheel heard and straining from her strength.

HUH?! For all she cared was that she wished she kneed him in the balls instead.

Her teeth screamed in pain from the continuous grinding, the pounding of her temples morphed into a full migraine. Wincing from the intense internal pain Lori let go of the wheel and gripped her head, even pulling strands of her hair in the process. The blonde beauty.

"Get out!" She moaned. She wanted him out, out of her head, out of her life—their lives! But all that brought was a fiercer reality of the situation thrust upon them, upon her...

When she saw Logan she remembered clearly and could easily recall in the clearest detail of how shook her entire being was from the first sight of him. How he called her brother dad and the woman mama. Yet she didn't see her nephew at all. All Lori saw was that damn pregnancy stick, she saw souring anger and heard the unwanted words and curses thrown out that horrid evening when he dropped the bomb on them...

From that innocent child she saw what split her family apart.

In that moment, in her emotionally unstable mind, she knew, right then and there, she blamed him...not his father or even his mother...she blamed their son...

And that fucked her up...

Unable to contain the dam any longer this woman broke out a fit of choked sobs. Over a worth of five years of pent up pain shooting out of her through her eyes in the form of tears mixed with mascara and mouth from the sounds of strangled coughs and other pitiful sounds of someone unable to comprehend any of this—to accept what's been done.

 **'BEEP!'** Her head smacked against the center of the wheel, the honk echoing throughout the neighborhood, yet non heard. It was just her, her and her thoughts and the sad tree giving her company in her sorrow.

 **~oOo~**

 **Can he do this?..**

 **1216 Franklin Avenue..**

 **Just outside...**

How can he do this? A question that was brought up again and again from Manchester, to Dallas, then the flight, the drive and now this. Hell, even before all of that when they came up with the plan to return. How they miraculously found out the house was on sale and all other needs.

He knew he had to be strong, to hold it all in, but it's hard to. Even after all the missions and lives he took and saw in a mutilated or decomposed state of infection or rats and other nasties taking their time on their meal, even he has his limits.

A heart...the one thing everyone said he had, something he kept on his shoulder in pride. Yet it was something that made this life harder whenever it came to a job, forced to fight his mind to push it away—all of it. For some reason it also kept him going.

He felt sick. A growing pit in his gut wanting to come up and splatter the ground in a myriad of yellow and green and all other colors swirling in him—a sick canvas of bile and drool on display.

The reason? As crazy as it sounds it wasn't from the sight or smell of a corpse or any other gory displays etched in his mind for years to come, no, simply it was because he was going to confront his mother...his mama...

Can he even look her in the eyes? After all this time and expect the very woman who stood beside him and brought him in this cruel, violent world to love him in return?

Why is he asking that? What the hell is wrong with him?! Of course she would dammit! This is his mother; no matter what. That doesn't elevate his worries at all, just makes him even more nervous. A slight tremor racks, Leni feels it and so does his wife.

Heh' a guy should be considered lucky having two beautiful women holding his arms from both sides, but remember that one is his sister.

Leni, on his left, refused to even let up in her vice like grip, fearing this may have been a dream or an illusion crafted from her fragile mind. Afraid he, his wife, and their son were not real and it was just her loosing it. That all faded from the feel of his thumb and other digits brushing against her hand. Dragging him along the whole way.

Haiku, on his right, her grip as firm yet soothing at the same time. Slowly she stroked her loves arm in the attempt to put his worries down a notch. She can't blame him for acting like this, even then, where he has mastered the art of the pokerface she can still see through it with relative ease. She sighed softly from the events that just transpired in just—barely even half a day!

It was a headache. God knows how many more will come banging against their skulls from the mere fact his pact of a family is way larger and far more emotional, whilst hers will also...be...a mess of past actions reemerging, she placed those aside for now. One step at a time.

She felt her right hand pulled back and forth, looking over she saw her son swinging their limbs in said direction, trying to distract himself. Trying being the word as he too saw the distress in his fathers face, that making him more worried.

Ah...she forgot. Her usual thin line expression morphed into a slight frown from the fact she didn't include in her thoughts what her little bat had felt or will feel in the coming hours, days, weeks—etc. on their new adventure in the small game called life.

Leni, though she may be slow at times, understood clearly (to the best of her abilities) from how this was a step her little brother (even though he is taller than her) struggled to climb up, but she wasn't letting him go up alone. For all that has happened her wish came true and she wasn't going to let it all fall from here. So with a bright, gentle smile, she pulled her brother along a step, the others following suit.

One step turned to two and two to three, four...five; before long they stood in front of the door.

It was like looking at his life play before him and it was only the door.

Heart pounding...

 **~oOo~**

 **Mama...**

 **Inside the Loud House...**

Another day and another rut in her mind. She was stuck and there was no way out than doing nothing but watch tv and see what happens.

With her butt on the couch, Rita sipped her glass of cranberry juice, legs crossed, and aimlessly swirling said glass as she sighed. Looking down next to her was a constant mess of cross outs and scribbled notes of whatever for her next chapter of her latest book, yet writers block decided to be a sneaky little ass and knock down her doors unexpected. She was really looking forward to a day of writing and creating but, alas, such is life, it happens.

She figured that watching whatever was on would be a great motivator and give her a newfound inspiration to continue her work, sadly, she found non of that sans a load of depressing news and the sick reality of the world and its issues.

No matter how many times she changed the channel it was nothing but a constant barrage of the latest news as all revolved around the latest attack from yesterday. The word Manchester on every headline and the growing casualties still being found from rubble and debris, the talks of a memorial service, and the growing demands on action to be put on LC, yet even though she was 'lucky' enough to find a different channel, it was not much of a change at all.

She sighed, with no choice she settled on a news reading on the latest rundown on the current civil war in Russia, along with its spread on neighboring nations.

A frown grew on her face and only deepened from the pictures popping in and out from next to a female Hispanic reporter of the war. Scenes of destruction and death along with the videos of the constant marches of soldiers moving in and out of hell.

 **'As we can easily tell and see, the Second Russian Civil War still continues to devastate the already scarred nation, leading to now a stalemate between the two parties as, in this month alone, it's estimated that over 12,000 lives were lost between both Loyalist And Ultranationalist forces.'** She shuffled her papers, and continued on as a bio hazard symbol shown beside her right shoulder. **'It was also reported that the usage of chemical weapons were as key factor to these lost of life as Loyalist place blame on the Ultranationalist, yet the international community still is reluctant in intervening'**

The sight of recorded footage and photos brought a chill through Rita when she saw the groups of gas mask and hazmat soldiers move through the torn streets of a small district, weapons in hand as a haze of sickly green-yellow tinted smoke cover the air. Her throat clenched as memories flashed quickly through her older mind from over 2 decades ago; how she saw her share of body bags from those taken from the plague, but one memory stood out from the other...her father fighting and cursing at the soldiers holding him back as she watches her childhood home set aflame and fall under the hellish fires as she cries in the arms of her husband...how much it hurt when she lost...her mother...

She fought back tears wanting to spill for old wounds.

The girls were too young to understand and she's glad for that. Though the city wasn't hit as hard as others; the fact it was hit at all during that time was a nightmare in its purest form to many. It may be over but the wounds are still there, and for some...they still won't heal.

She knows for sure her time wasn't perfect in its issues and events, but she prefers that than what's happening now. Now...she isn't sure what to call this day and age.

Rita wishes a lot. Yeah she knows that many-if any-wouldn't come true at all. Yet she keeps on dreaming on.

Said dream was simple...that being her baby boy. She thinks of him constantly when alone...it racks her brain, there isn't a day where she would picture him from before as she tries to visualize what kind of man he has become...and...father. That...that was...she doesn't know how to put it...a surprise? Well, yes. But it was more than that when he left.

She likes to go farther, the day he was announced to the already family of seven at the time, god was it a surprise to know it wasn't going to be a girl but a boy—A BOY!

Heh' a small, loving smile took over her lips, her tired eyes closed carefully as she was brought back to memory lane. The excitement and fear of her husband when he had the realization he had no clue on raising a son let alone what to do at all, how the girls were taken back but loved every moment with joy and love for him when he was still in her womb, how Luna sung to him with her head on her mothers bulging stomach; a soft melody full of promises.

How his cries were music to his mother's ears when she held him, her body sore and tired after hours upon hours of intense, painful labor, yet it was beyond the realms of worth it. His baby blue eyes...her eyes...her first gift to him, a little tussle or white hair...her baby boy...

Why did it have to end?

A lone tear, just one, glided down her cheek. Her mind oblivious to the tv.

But that didn't hurt her the most at all. What did was the fact she would never will, maybe ever, meet her grandchild...that is if she (she just knows it's a girl) made it at all—NO! Furiously shaking her head in denial, she REFUSES to think that. What kind of sick idea is her mind playing?!

Opening her eyes when a loud, but slow, knock came from the front door. Confusion sweapt through her as she wondered who was it. She hopes it's non of the door to door salesmen or those wanting to spread the word of their god. May as well see, huh?

Opening the door, drink in hand, Rita was assaulted a bit by the cool winds, causing her to flinch slightly before she stood before a tall figure, her eyes blinked.

"Can I help you, si—" Her voice died immediately when she looked up and saw the very blue eyes she knew well, even if they had faded into a darker color and didn't hold the bright light she loved and cherished each day—she knew right then and fucking there...those eyes...

God...

Not even noticing her daughter or the other woman on his right, or even the child hiding behind his mother as he tried to find a good view, Rita did the only sensible thing and that being by dropping her glass, drink and shards flying as the shattering caused Leni and Logan to flinch.

Feeling to urge to go to her mother and console her in growing worriment, Leni had to fight herself mentally and physically from doing so. They needed this.

Haiku knew this, but Logan didn't. Feeling her son push her slightly to see what's going on, she sidestepped but held her arms crossed around her son's chest, keeping in still. When the boy looked up at her and wanted to ask why she silenced him with a look.

Looking back at the growing scene of emotion, she knew her love was in every way a mama's boy. Not like it really mattered, he loved her and will always as he always spoke highly of her back in the day. It makes sense as to why he couldn't hold himself the way he usual does.

Rita barely held herself also, her body trembling, hands flying to her mouth as she tried to make sense of the growing hell inside her going insane. All the emotions playing and swirling through her fucking her skull to the point a pounding pain racked her head. She refused to believe who is in front of her—she didn't want to.

After all this time...why now?...WHY?!

She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, she wanted to hold him and hit him over and over for leaving her! She wanted...her boy to hold her. She wanted to love him again and him her in the way they always did from before.

Was she a good mother? Where did she go wrong? Was she too lenient? Too...she can't do this. Her legs nearly gave out as she was forced to lean against the wall for support.

Yeah...she can't do this...

No...

Then why is moving?

Her feet shuffled lightly as she forced herself to the man that held blue eyes and hair like snow.

He couldn't look at her, head turning to the right, tears threatening to break rank. He couldn't do it either.

Lincoln Loud: private contractor, higher up of Melody, professional killer, father, husband, son and brother couldn't find it in him to look at the woman who birthed him to this world...

 **Coward...**

A complete utter coward who can't look her in the eye.

He felt like a monster—a bastard that ruined it all. It felt like getting shot over and over again when he heard her strangled whimpers, a bullet tearing him apart slowly...god he wished it was a bullet instead of this.

Teeth gritted, nails sinking deeper and deeper into his palms, nostrils flared as he hated himself again. Unable to even notice the look his son gave him as he stared at his father with those innocent, dark chocolate eyes of his. How much his look-a-like couldn't believe the man before him, his hero, could look so...so weak...

Wait...he tilted his head, cheek leaning against his mother's arm, are those tears? His eyes narrowed then widened...they are. This is the first time he's ever seen that from his father...this is the first time he saw his father...cry.

 **How dare you...stand before her...**

He knew this will be a challenge, let alone now it's hell on his mind. He ran an away with her, he understands perfectly what their actions had done. Some scars here and there but that's just a fact of life.

One cannot go their entire life without a scratch; both mentally or physically. If you had though...well your the luckiest motherfucker on this planet.

 _'Mom...'_ A word with many meanings. Caregiver, life bringer, the woman who kissed his wounds, rocked him to sleep, sang to him, told tales to him, have always been there for him and he made her cry.

 _'What have I done?'_ Repeatedly he shook his head. _'I have to fix this...'_

 **How?**

' _Fuck it.'_

She barely could make it to him as he was the one who instead took the initiative, said woman was taken back by her heart racking soft sobs and the man walking towards her she flinched when she felt his hands clasped down on her shoulders. His mere touch reopened the hidden scars of her heart that she fought back.

His mouth opened and closed, unable to find the words needed to be said as he fought her back too, still holding on as the woman before him shook and effortlessly tried her damndest to escape the grasp of her wayward son. When her hands met his in the attempt to pry him off she gasped. She forgot the feeling of his skin on her fingers, unconsciously she gripped his hands before she shook her head repeatedly, memories of holding a little boys hands as she spun him in a circle as joyous screams filled her mind made her cry harder than before.

But she kept on fighting...why?

Dropping her hands she suddenly began to pound them against his chest.

"Let go, Let go, Let go!"

He didn't. Instead he did something better. With all the strength he could muster he pulled the woman close against him and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape, tears falling and mascara running. In her mind she fought and fought before it all came crashing down. Holding her was him...her baby...her boy...and he was crying...in pain...her boy was in pain...

It was his turn to sob and fight when she hugged him back.

 _'I don't deserve this...'_ Repeated over and over throughout his mind.

He froze suddenly when he felt the hands of his mother on his head, softly she stroked his hair, fingers lost in his tangled snow locks.

"It's ok," she whispered. Her voice fragile, gentle, full of love for him and him alone. "You're here...my baby boy...you're here."

Together they held the other and sobbed, her face pressed against his chest as she stained his hoddie, his on her shoulder as he stained her shirt, yet non cared.

Muffled, he continuously said—"I'm sorry." Yet she hushed him, even softly rocking him.

Leni's sniffles could be heard as she found nothing but joy in the moment. Haiku too smiled, carefully she swiftly wiped a stray tear away before any could see. Logan found it heart warming but all so...it was a lot to take in for someone as young like him.

Before he could do anything the boy felt a tap on his head from his mother. Looking up he saw her nod and motion towards the two adults, gulping he nodded in return. Given a light push by his mama the child rubbed his hands as he made his way over.

"D-dad?" When his voice registered within the older man he lifted his head off his mother and turned to face his boy, Rita as well when she heard the unfamiliar voice...only to freeze...

 _'Dad...'_ That word bounced inside her mind when she saw a sight that would imprint in her forever more. What she saw made all color leave her face. Standing before her was...oh god...

She knew who it was, it doesn't take a genius...

There was only one justifiably thing she could do in this situation...

She screamed.

 **~oOo~**

 **Lunch is served...**

 **Royal Woods...**

 **Lynn's Table...**

It was any other day to Lynn Loud Sr, and he loved it. The sight of customers coming and going with gusto as they are satisfied beyond relief by his organismic tasting cooking, the making of fond memories of lovers, friends, and a little birthday here and there, he was content with what he created. All the hardwork and support finally made into a reality.

A dream come true many would say.

Humming a slight tune the older Loud masterfully maneuvered his pan in one hand, and the other stirring a pot. His waiters and other cooks giving it their all as the day goes on with more and more hungry customers.

Smile never wavering, apron stained and dirty, giving commands and encouragement and praise as he goes on.

Nothing could ruin this day.

Suddenly the sound of cowbells sung from his right pocket as he felt the vibrations against his leg. Removing his phone he quickly stepped out of the kitchen towards the back with the dumpsters. He was confused as to why his wife was calling him at this hour, he shrugged anyways.

Pressing accept he held the phone to his ear. "Hey, hon, what's—" He stopped as worriment swam through him when he was assaluted by the sounds of sniveling, hiccups, and choked gasps.

"Rita? Honey what's wrong?" Yet his answer was the same, more sobs and garbled words. It wasn't long until she hung up. Now he was slightly scared. Ready to call her back he stopped when a ping sounded. Looking at his phone he saw it was a text with a picture tagged to it.

Blinking he tapped the icon...

So he stared and read...

He stared...and read...

And read and stared...

Over and over...

His phone kissed the ground, screen cracked, he didn't care.

Eyes wide, blinking repeatedly, it wasn't long until his ass met the ground too. Gasping in ragged breaths.

Unable to comprehend at what he just saw.

Though broken, dirty, and slightly wet, the screen was still bright. On it was a picture of a little boy no older than, say, four? Five? Maybe six? Either way he was child. Grey locks, dark brown eyes, pale skin, sitting on his couch, nervous smile on his face.

Under it was the typed message:

 _[Our grandson...his name is Logan...come home quick...Lynn...he's back.]_

 **~oOo~**

 **And that's a wrap!**

 **Man it's been awhile since I wrote anything so I hope I did alright.**

 **Well guess I should say this, huh?**

 **I'm back.**

 **Simple.**

 **Really I'm trying my best to get back to it, but with my job, doubt still a bitch, and the fact I'm going to college it's gonna be hard, but I'm trying and that's all I can do. So I'm back.**

 **Thank you all for your support and I hope y'all will continue to do so.**

 **Leave a review and tell me what ya think.**

 **Really, I'm just going with the flow and planning as I write on...**

 **Till next time, Hound out...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well guess I got to start somewhere, eh'**

 **Yeah, guess I am a bit of a sonava bitch for taking longer than I should, but hey, I have my reasons why...**

 **Red Dead Redemption 2. Got my hands on it...you guys know the rest.**

 **Anyway! I'm back and let's get on with my trash!**

 **Recap: Lincoln's a private contractor in a world drastically different than the one we know.** **Lori smacked the crap out of Linc, her crying and thinking and feeling to blame Logan for something he had no control or say over. Leni meeting her nephew and falling in love at first sight, and hugging Haiku(hehehe). Introduced Lily. Rita seeing her son after so many years and her grandson for the first time, justifiably freaking the hell out. And lastly, Lynn Sr. getting a text of little Logan's picture.**

 **What else? Oh yeah expect some more lore on the world and backstory from later chapters and this one. Anya, if y'all remeber her, will make other appearances and play teacher later.**

 **I also want to give a massive shoutout to my friend Rogue Command for help in ideas, hearing me out, and, of course, providing the new cover art for the story you can see at the top.**

 **Thanks dude!**

 **Also another thanks to TheFreezerStreets. You guys are awesome.**

 **Now! Story time...**

"Talking"

 _'Thinking/Inner thoughts'_

 **~oOo~**

 **Up above with a glass in hand...**

 **Seoul, South Korea...**

 **SkyLove Tower Restaurant...**

 **2027...**

The view was well payed for. Up above, hundreds upon hundreds of feet from earth, people in lavish clothing sat and dined away, speaking to the other in Korean, going about their evening in style. Slowly the circular designed restaurant revolved clockwise, and ever so subtly an unaware person wouldn't even notice that one moment they were facing a vast open space and next large towers of downtown.

The simple things, well simple you had money to burn.

The skyline of the impressive city that is Seoul. South Korea's capital, one of many gems of the world. Though filled with scars like all the others from the pandemic and riots that took place a little over two decades ago. Though that time is over the memories still remain clear as day to those who witnessed it first hand. The same couldn't be said for their northern neighbors as they faced a fate worse than death.

A pretty face trying to cover the ugly from before. Or that's how Marcus saw it. He really didn't care much as he used to back in the day. Nothing one can do but sit and drink away, like he was right now. But unlike others he wasn't alone, and he wasn't drunk off his ass either.

No.

The Australian on the other hand. Oliver Fetch gasped after taking a straight shot of liquor, slamming his glass down with force that it rattled the table a bit. Uncaring at the stares he was obtaining from his actions. Red tinted his cheeks but he was far from close to drunk, tipsy? Yeah, but it takes more to take down someone like Ollie, as Marcus and a few others in their "family" like to call him. Even then, most would order a drink from the country they're visiting out of respect or something along those lines, but Oliver was the type of man who preferred what he knew.

"Your a mean focka' ya know that?" Oliver said, finger pointed at the raven haired older man, sipping from his glass. Leaning back against his seat the chocolate haired Aussie gave his companion an amused stare, his smile highlighting a few of his scars that coiled around his lips.

Marcus clicked his tongue, a raspy chuckle left him. Wiping a hand across his equally dark beard from any crumbs of his meal, he shrugged. "Hey, he was going to confront them eventually. I just...sped up the process by a few good days or so. I mean, come on the kid is bad at this shit."

"Yeah, but from a bitch like her?" Oliver brought out his tablet from the side of the table, turned it on and typed a quick few keys. Planting it front of Marcus, who was met with a picture of blonde haired woman leaning on a sign, arms crossed, and a eye that means business. The words 'Lori Loud Sells' in gold along with a phone number and email address of her work.

Marcus scoffed. "She ain't that bad, Ollie."

The Aussie rolled his eyes, even he knew Marcus wasn't so sure on that from the quick twitch of his nose. The little things one picks up from a long friendship and cooperation like theirs. "Ya heard the stories from, Linc."

That he did. Ten sisters? Jesus, Mohammad, Buddha, Moses-whoever. It can be Zeus for all he cares, bless that white haired bastards soul. Actually bless that woman who went through it...WILLINGLY!

But really help snow tops boy instead. Deep inside Marcus and Oliver hoped all is going well for Logan more than his parents, even though they care for them the same, their minds was on the child.

"Unfortunately," Marcus said. He took a sip from his glass, the liquor doing the trick in its numbing, keeping him warm and full. "Not all of it was bad. I mean she had good intentions. Could've been worse."

Oliver rose a brow, leaning forward some. "Driving god knows past the speed limit from college in some other city just to tear him a new one just cause her ship didn't sail? I mean, yeah I get that Linc focked up big time, still though." He shook his head. "Don't know either to be impressed by her commitment or disturbed."

"It's like you said: he fucked up. With my favorite niece of all people, actually feel kinda bad for that other girl." Marcus blinked, trying to remember part of the story Lincoln told them that led to the series of events of Logan's eventual birth in the world. "What was her name? Ron something?"

The Aussie shrugged. "Eh' I think 'er last name was Santiago, some Mexican sheila or some shite." He raised both hands in a lazy wave. "Look, I know I didn't like what he did to that Ron Santi-whateva', but still."

"Heh' I smell hypocritic shit just steaming off you." Marcus waggled his eyebrows with a snarky grin. "You fooled around-still do-with a lot of girls willing to spread for you."

"Yeah but I never was in any relationship with another though while jumpin' it. Am I right?"

Marcus nodded. "Unfortunately." He gazed out towards the windows, eyes following the slow spin of the whole restaurant. "Nearly decked the poor kid if I remember."

"Yeah, well, I'm just saying." Marcus didn't see the scowl that formed on his friends face but he knew one was there. "But I swear, Marc if she or any one of those sisters of his even fockin' think of hurtin' that pup I swear I'm-"

"You're not the only one that cares about him ya know." Cutting Oliver off, Marcus turned his face back to the Aussie man, giving him a stare. "He's my nephew too, by blood dammit."

Oliver winced. Marcus stopped himself, realizing what his words at meant. The old man sighed.

"He's our nephew too."

He knew Oliver had the right to see and call Logan as that. He loved the boy and vice versa.

The waitress came over, and in semi-perfect English asked if they wanted anything else as she took their plates. Oliver shook his glass, the universal sign for more, Marcus shook his head. With a nod, the Korean woman took Oliver's glass to be refilled and left them at that.

The two men returned to a peaceful silence, enjoying their time off. Marc returned to enjoying the view. A top restaurant with top drinks and top view the reviews said, so why not? Nothing better to do than have a meal and a drink with a friend.

They may have been around the world but they never get to truly see it. Strange ain't it? But the life of a private contractor can be demanding: priorities of the mission, and in this modern world it almost always ends in getting shot at. Though Marcus no longer acts on the field, age catches everyone after all, he still gets to play a role. Overseeing missions and conducting his own operations for the good of the company, or for the main top gal and head of the whole PMC and all their other businesses Jasmine Note, or for himself and his team wanting to get a quick buck. Being a higher up of Melody has its perks...and disadvantages.

He internally shivered. Paperwork...evil.

His dark brown eyes caught the sight of a flock of birds flying in tandem across the large city, completely unaware of the humans below them as they go about their lives the best they can. Swirling his glass as Oliver reach for his from the waitress. Small things.

"Hmph..." Oliver's green eyes scanned across his lap, left hand on his drink and right down below.

"Anything new, or..." Eyebrow raised with a shit eating grin forming. "Cause playing with your dick in public is considered rude and fucked up."

Ollie smiled.

Marcus leaned back against his seat, glass raised. "Don't know if that's how ya'll treat each other in Kangaroo land, but—"

"Shut the fock up you white bastard." Oliver bit back.

"Your white too, dumbass."

"Yeah, but I ain't 'that' white. I mean, Jesus, get some sun." Oliver's voice broke as he laughed, Marcus joining him on the fun.

Yeah...the small things.

Oliver continued fiddling with his tablet underneath before bringing it up on the table, a variety of square images and videos played in silent as he was busy reading over a column from CNN.

"Anything new?"

He shook his head. "Define new. Ruskies are still killin' each other, Anarchists are being Anarchists, LC is growin' and Manchester is still front paged...Oh! And some celebrity just came out the closet or somethin'. He shrugged, closing his tablet and sliding it away from him. "Ah, yeah, somethin' else on his sista'—two of 'em. The...fock...ahhh..." Snapping his fingers, trying to find the name. "The singer."

"Luna?"

"Yeah! That one."

"What about?" Nothing to do but gossip they suppose.

"Not much." Ollie began to rap his knuckles against the mahogany table. "Finished her tour of Europe, said she gonna be visiting her home town."

Well fuck. This is going to be interesting. A grin morphed on Marcus's face.

"And the other one?"

"Yeah, the designer one."

Marcus is amazed he knows their names, a bit disappointed, but amazed he cared enough to remember. "Leni."

Ollie nodded. "Mmm~ Turns out she's gonna do a runway fundraiser back in Royal."

Marc nodded, before he noticed his friends mouth curl into a frown. The Aussie sighed, taking another needed swig.

"Dammit! Can't help but worry over the little pup, ya know?"

That he did. The day he set his eyes on Logan the day he was born was also the day where he silently promised alongside Lincoln and his niece to always protect that child.

"He's going to be fine. 'Sides he got Linc and Harriet."

Ollie snickered. "Ya know if she heard ya call 'er that in public—"

"Oh god I know." The older man shook his head from imagining the dark, annoyed stare from his favorite niece. "She used to promise to curse me with the haunting of some demon, and I bought her the damn books filled with those," He lifted both hands and made quotations with his hands. "Spells." He shook his head. "Don't get why she doesn't like people calling her by her real name. Well Linc's an exception, being her husband and all that."

"Heh'...yeah. Got to admit Haiku does sound cooler. Can't imagine what the kid is going through, though. Or will...gonna be a lot for the pup to take in."

"All we can do is wait and see I guess."

"And I hate that."

"Imagine Emiko."

"GOD!" The Aussie broke into a fit of laughter. "Or fockin' Isabell?"

Marcus joined him from imagining Lo's honorary aunts on his well being. One a Japanese and other a German that will bring the wrath of hell if anything bad was to happen to their 'nephew'. Well, second to Haiku. No one messes with the dark queens little grey prince.

But all good things must come to an end. Oliver sobered up...some, but it was enough for the seriousness to make its way in. He didn't want to bring in work when they didn't have any work to do right now, but it was on his mind. And knowing Lincoln, it's on his too.

"Speakin' of Manchester."

Marcus saw where this was now heading, he took a gulp of his drink, the glass now empty he placed it back on the table. "Now's not the damn time."

Oliver sighed. "I know, but still its a goddamn mess out there." He pulled his tablet back and began tapping on saved websites and articles. Burning videos of streets filled with blood and smoke filled the screen along with the rapid questions and demands of the public from the attack by Lost Cause.

"It's always been a mess, Ollie. I don't need to be reminded that our world is being held in place with a string keeping us from hell...well total hell I mean."

"It's always been teetering, Marc. But I'm really asking 'cause Linc is gonna be bugging me for info on it, ya know how he gets on this type of shite."

That he and anyone in the team knows well, even the top dog Ms. Note herself.

Oliver continued, playing with his napkin by tearing it apart and rolling tiny balls, playing basketball with his glass as the hoop. "I mean we already know a name and got a face." He blinked. "Jal, was it?"

"Close. His name is Joul, Zachary Joul." Marcus clarified. "Thought ya read the whole file I sent all of you."

The Aussie waved a hand, missing his target as the paper ball kissed the expensive tiled floor. "Skimmed it enough. Got the gist of it anyway: some Brit-probably an Ani from the way it was worded."

Ani, Marcus is getting too old for this shit. Some abbreviation for Anarchist someone started and soon grew to become standard way to label them. Back in the day, before the Pox, fighting the system and calling yourself an Anarchist really got you nothing more than a shake of heads or people laughing at you, screaming all sorts of profanities when the police get their hands, or batons, on you. Now it's different. No one wants to be called an Ani as it means your a terrorist, a threat. Just another puppet controlled by Lost Cause. Their toy soldiers.

"Your close." He really didn't want to discuss work of all things now, but they're deep in it now so. "Found out he's a Gunrunner: supplies a few Ani groups back in the states, UK, even Japan, and blah-blah-blah-blabbity-blee-blu-blu and all other shit like that." He sighed. "Course doesn't mean his hands are clean." Remembering the file also came with pictures of dead people. Ranging from quick shots to the head, sliced necks, to a whole heap of gruesome endings to many lives. Couple videos of torture here and there too. Nothing new, Marcus gave it an overall two stars: no ones original anymore.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah, saw that one with the dogs. Poor bastard howled louder than the mutts." Oliver gave it two and a half, reason being the audio wasn't shoddy and the video wasn't shaky. "Anyway, I don't know all my countries well, but most if not all I heard was Spanish-Spanish-and squeaky Spanish, sides the Brit. Sooo~"

"Cartels?" The older man asked.

Aussie leaned back. "Am I right?"

"Heh' missed bullseye a couple centimeters but yeah you're pretty much hitting it. Central America, don't know which country or LZ, hell it could be an Insurgent Zone for all we know. But we do know he's a hundred percent part of Lost, makes his cash from drug peddling across the Americas which he uses to buy his guns and," He clapped his hands, "Rinse and repeat. Could be an Ani, or just some guy looking for quick bucks and not caring who he does it for, let alone who he hurts."

People like that are everywhere. Lost Cause has under-the-table investors, backers, etc. Money is key to any war, and to any organization. Everyone wants some.

Zachary is one of them. In a day and age like this one must simply trace the bullet back to the source...and there were a lot of bullets during the attack on Manchester.

Oliver blew a raspberry. "Cartels," he mocked. "Lost got all of 'em by the balls. Sad thing a lot of them still think they're still in charge." A sardonic chuckle escaped him. "Just a bunch of coked fueled puppets on a leash...string...whateva"

For about anyone knows or cares, LC practically rules it all. By 2017 it was discovered they had control of about eighty-percent of the drug trafficking trade of Latin America. How? They waged war on the families, organizations, and all others. Course it was waved off and they were seen as a joke by the cartles...till bodies were being dropped left and right. High members found dead along with their families in events, beds, even on their dining room table, faces pressed on top of still warm food. Heirs, didn't care if the kid was just that, a child, a teen or a baby in the crib or still in their mothers womb. Still died the same.

They may still run things the way they want now, but a good slice of their profits go to LC. Money and manpower.

Marcus and Oliver remembered how the US reenacted their whole war on drugs again a few years back. They especially remember that car that went 'boom' on the border in Mexico.

Its just how the world is now.

Rolling his neck, trying to get the cricks out of there. "That answer your question?" He asked.

Oliver flashed a small smile. "Linc's actually, I'll send 'em it later. You know how he is." He sighed. "Can slice a mans throat, pull the trigger without thinking twice, and break a bastards skull in several ways, but when the civilians get caught in a mission he..."

"Yeah...yeah I know. Thought we took care of that."

"He has a good heart."

Marcus nodded. "He needs to leave that behind when it comes to assignments. I don't like anyone who's a civvie getting caught-especially children, but people die." Stone coldness filled his eyes, an expression built by a man who played this game too long. "We're Contractors Ollie, not saviors."

Oliver scoffed, hands folding together. "Yet when some place in the world is hit who's the first ones to respond?"

He hiked a thumb at himself. "Us." He raised a hand and counted fingers. "Hong Kong, New York, Singapore, Kyoto, Yemen-things fockin' changed." He chuckled, resting his chin on his palm. "I remember when people saw us as just paid killers-which we still are, and only caring about profit which is also true. But when Jazzie took over from her pop it's like the world expects us to do something. Guess it makes sense...seeing how a lot of the world militaries are still nowhere as strong as they were before Pox. Still though...heh."

Marcus blew some air. "I know what you mean. Still trouble...and paperwork, fuck." He glared playfully when the Aussie laughed at his misfortune. "Really lets not worry on that right now."

Oliver agreed, deciding to drop it...but then picked something else up.

"Soooo~ anything new on Lydia Corp? Or-"

Marcus pointed a 'shut the hell up' finger at his friend, eyes darkening even more. "You don't start on that."

Oliver raised both hands in a surrender fashion. "Ok! Ok! Shite, mate I'm just askin'.

The black haired man rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He had enough headaches already.

 **~oOo~**

 **Only the beginning...**

 **Royal Woods, Michigan...**

 **New Loud House...**

 **Master bedroom...**

There are times in every mans life where he desperately needs a drink, and for Lincoln he wants to drown 'till his liver commits suicide so he can die numb. So much emotion and so many tears and hell and...god it was only one day-no! Not even. Now his plate was full to the point it was starting to crack.

He groaned as he fell backwards on the king sized bed, hands grabbing and feeling the soft dark purple silk covers on his fingers, relaxing him some...some. His mind was mess, a jumbled zoo of destruction as he tried to find a way to tackle this. Yet seeing how his so called plan went, he wasn't even expecting he was going to see any of his sisters yet, well yes seeing how they are next door, but still...he planned it out for his mother, but

 _'Christ.'_ One way or another he was going to _pay_ Marcus back for this. _'Surprise my ass.'_

Hands on his face, he rubbed his eyes, feeling the sensation of water wanting to fall down his cheeks. To see his mother, the very woman who brought him to this world. The very woman who held his hand through the bad times when he was no older than Logan in such a state like that...it fucked with him. Bad. Just the mere thought that he caused her that pain made him feel shitty. No matter how hard they held the other and exchanged their 'I love you's' it still didn't help with that pit in his gut, let alone that chocking sensation in his throat.

 _'Fuck...Logan.'_ He nearly forgot about his boy. All this is obviously taking its toll on the kid. How can it not? Now the questions...the god damn questions his son has bottled up, ready to explode. He wonders where does he even begin, where does he even think of starting to tackle this.

His fingers coiled and gripped his white strands, yanking them upwards in frustration. _'Man with the plan? Huh' give me a break.'_

That is a problem with him. He thinks he has to be the one to tackle all of this alone, but he forgot one important thing.

A soft hum, so silent one can't make of it, but he can. A sound he knows well. Well enough it made him stop his hair pulling, and bring a hand away from his face so he could look up and see his wife standing at the end of their room, her eyes analyzing each and every little detail, looking to see it met the specifications. Her song was enchanting to him, enough for Lincoln to forget the bad of today, to not think of the drain.

That important thing? He wasn't alone.

He smacked a hand on his forehead, a small smile pulled his lips. They're in this together, always had been and always will. No matter how it goes, even if they have to go back to Dallas, he'll have her by his side, and their son. Always.

Lincoln turned his head over to the side, there he met the eyes of his reflection displayed from the large double mirrored doors of their closet. He gazed and drunk Haiku's form, from every inch by inch of her curves, from her rear, to her back, breasts, and to the soft black hair begging to be caressed. His hand twitched. God he missed her touch. The Loud male also saw himself...saw how pathetic he laid there.

It was now or never. He sighed, this was happening, they made their choice, got to push through.

"You know, sighing isn't really your thing, my love." Haiku said, turning around she walked over gracefully to their new bed, making sure to side step the various boxes marked with black marker that littered the floor.

Her husband nodded as he chuckled. "Yeah, guess I got to leave it you then, huh? I mean, being the," He waved his hands in emphasis, "The Grand Queen of Melodrama!" He cheered. "And I vant to suck your blud! Bluh-bluh-bluh!" He laughed at himself from his failed attempt at a bastardized Dracula accent.

Haiku rolled her eyes, she graced him with a rare smile as she sat on the bed, by her husband. Lincoln looked over at her thighs, lifting himself up some he scooted over and laid his head back down on her lap, relaxing as he breathed in relief. She played with strands of his hair and felt his rough jaw. Suddenly then flicking his still red cheek where Lori smacked part of the life out him.

He winced, rubbing the still sore area while lifting a hand in surrender. "Alright, sheesh woman."

She tilted her head with the smile still present, closing her one visible eye. "You can be quite an ass love, so punishment is needed."

A chesire grin on his face. "What? Bluh-Bluh-Bluh-AH!" Sonava bitch he forgot how hard his sister can slap someone, now he has a clear idea of the pain a lot of men have gone through back in the day when they got too close for comfort to the phone-a-holic, or any of his sisters...well mainly Leni if not all the reasons for Lori smacking the soul out of people.

His wife peered down at him with a thin line smile, hand held up in flicking prepared motion. "Want to go again? Round three?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, pointing up with an accusatory finger. "You're abusive."

Her dark brown rolled again, leaning downwards and he propping himself up so their lips can meet. She hummed in pleasure as he deepened the wet lip lock action, caressing her soft face. The need for air became the bastard that ended it. Panting slightly he rested his head back on her thighs. Nuzzling deeper on his 'pillow'.

"Forgiven," he said. "For now." He winked while she shook her head.

It was just them and them alone, no worries at the moment, Logan was keeping himself busy with exploring his new room so they took the time to just do nothing but enjoy each others company. Yet all good things must end, they were just stalling, but more so Lincoln. She couldn't blame him, even she was dreading of confronting her parents and...sister. Blinking, Haiku wonders at times how Maggie is doing, maybe she changed...well some she expects, but maybe she didn't. Never was close in the first place, it was living with a stranger most if not all the time, just someone you bump into at times that lives just two doors away from you. There was a time she wanted some form of kinship with her older sister but that little candle died a long time ago. She knew even then that Logan deserves to at least meet his other aunt.

But that was just her sister. Her parents are a different story all on its own.

This is growing to be quite a pain...a cancerous growing pain.

Well she only has one sister while her husband has ten, that poor woman. One she found malice towards from blowing up, slapping him, and startling her little one, though she was at least glad, in her own way, to know that one, course it has to be the...she tried finding the right word...ditzy one? Whatever. At least Leni took the effort. She found the way her son and his aunt held the other to be rather cute and heartwarming but she did not enjoy the hug she received from the bubbly famous fashion designer. Shivering internally Haiku was glad that was over.

For now. Unfortunately.

Reality had to catch up to them eventually, and as much as she enjoyed each other's company, she, and him, especially him, knew they couldn't ignore the elephant in the room for any longer.

And it was Lincoln who broke the silence with a groan.

"That could've gone better, I mean it could've been worse...always can."

Always the optimistic. Even then he knew this was growing to be a clusterfuck.

Haiku hummed. "So you expected to get hit?"

He shrugged. "I mean this is my side of the family we're talking about. Physical pain is just part of the chemistry that made up the Louds." He chuckled from the memories with a shake of his head, but his wife was not finding the humor. He winced from the stare she gave him. "Look I know...fuck, Hai please just let it go."

Her eyes narrowed. "I for one don't find enjoyment watching my husband getting the soul smacked out of him." He cringed from her tone feeling the creeping darkness of promise of 'rewarding' her sister-in-law.

"Fine, but come on it was expected at least one of them would've done it." He tried explaining. "I kinda expected Lola, heh" Lincoln learned quick that joking about himself is not helping him at all right now. He sighed, bringing his hands up to grab hers, holding them close with a rub of his thumbs on her knuckles. "Love...I fucked up bad with them. No. We both did. This is just gonna happen and we can't stop it." His eyes softened and so did hers, letting go of one of her hands so he can rub his face. "I just hate it that Lo' had to see that."

So did she. The mother inside her especially, though she allows him watch all sorts of horror movies, hell she'll even sit and watch him when she has time, even then she didn't want to expose him to the clear ugly of reality. Which is funny on itself with the job his father does and the likes and hobbies stemming from her own upbringings. Haiku knows her little bat is smarter than he looks and let alone most kids his age, but he's still a child, he has yet to know how painful reality is.

She suddenly felt his hand on her cheek. A smile on his face. "Ya know, I planned this out way better." He laughed out loud from that. Even she couldn't help but go along with him. "Man with the fuckin' plan my ass." He moaned, still chuckling between words.

Once sobered, Haiku nodded her head and blew a hot breath, a few strands of her hair moved. "Fine. I'll let it go." She raised a finger, giving him her stare. "Once. Just this once."

He nodded too. "That's all I ask for."

Suddenly a thought came to him. Knowing how his sisters function...to an extent. When he thought of Lola being the one to strike him, he, without any thought, was struck with the image of her kicking him between the legs. He cringed internally. Along with that is the sudden thought of Lynn and her fist against his face, or gut, or balls. But she was the type of fighter to never go below the belt...so he tells himself. He can take pain obviously, his job demands that, the scars on his body and his right prosthetic leg basically shows that. Still he doesn't like getting hit.

 _'Great, just what I needed now. Fuck you brain.'_ He mentally cursed.

Lincoln's eyes wandered, stopping at his wife, more exactly the view her breasts gave him. Staring solely at the pair with her not paying attention. With all the growing stress of work, the planning, and today relief was what he really needed. Besides, its been a bit since the two of them fooled around. Bringing a hand up he cupped her right breast, causing her to jump from the sudden movement.

She looked down at him, pink dusting her pale cheeks. "Love, what are y-" She moaned when he squeezed, bringing his other hand to grip her other one, fondling the bountiful pair to his hearts content, a hungry grin on his face. She was always so sensitive there, years of exploring the other proved handy as he knew all her weak spots.

Haiku suddenly shrieked in laughter when he let go and gripped her body, pulling her down to him as he flipped her over, leaving her sprawled beneath him, his hands pinning her arms. A breathy smile on her beautiful face only made him hungrier, mashing his lips with her their tongues slipped in the other and battled for dominance. They once more damned air because they needed it. Panting, red faced, her legs spread open while his member hardened within the confines of his jeans, pushing and wanting to break free. Lincoln proceeded to rub her thighs, fingers brushing against the edges of her dress, she shivered from his touch. His grin grew and grew as he pulled the fabric up, inch by inch his prize was near.

But.

"Mama!"

Their sons voice echoed through the house, muffled but heard. The couple paused, frozen, miffed and horney.

Lincoln lowered his head, sighing. "Fuck." He cursed.

Haiku, also disappointed, smiled apologetically, rubbing a hand across his arm. "Duty calls." She said.

He nodded his head before shaking it with a chuckle of amusement. "Yeeaaaaaaaah~" He sighed. "Unfortunately. Lets go see what the kid wants."

She nodded. They shared another kiss, this one quicker. Getting off his wife, she walking out the door, Lincoln followed.

This better be good.

 **~oOo~**

 **A mothers worn heart...**

 **Loud House...**

 **Living Room...**

Leni held mother's aging hands close to her, rubbing soft circles of soothing love to the still softly sniffling older woman. Even if she herself was crying still after all this time, she had to be there for her mother.

Together their hearts hurt, but Rita's the most. All these surprises in just a day and she has still to even process it, pulling gently her hands from her daughters grasp she wiped her eyes, smeared slightly with now wasted mascara the mother of many, and now grandmother...she never thought the day would come. Praying was all she had left and then she knew it would get her nowhere. Her mind wanders in thinking that god is deaf, having other things to worry about than her family.

But it came.

Logan...Logan.

"Logan." She softly whispered, even with the ache of her breaking heart a soft warmth flooded her. The mere thought of that little boy, he looks so much like his father...like her son. It was enough to bring a smile to her face, breathing hitched, Rita picked up her phone from her left of the couch, pressing the home button twice she immediately went to photos, and right there, right damn there was her grandson. Awkward, shy, but oh so wonderful in her eyes. The one thing in her life she wanted to meet and see, but that damn day where it all went wrong. Regret filled many but so did anger towards their own that left.

Heh' she chuckled. "I always thought it was going to be a girl." Rubbing her thumb on the boys picture.

Leni smiled wide, her eyes full of life. "I knew it." Leaning against her mom, the fashion designer stared at the phone, admiring her nephew. "I was right." She and Lily were the only ones to agree on that their brothers unborn child was going to be a boy, the others that cared enough were all standing that it would've been a girl. 'Loud Luck' Lori called it.

Speaking of Lori. Rita was confused.

Turning to look at her daughter. "Leni, dear, where's Lori?" She asked. "Wasn't she there?" Rita raised a brow when she saw how her second born fidgeted from her question. "Leni?" She refused to stare, but her mother pressed her harder. Hand on her thigh, Rita leaned forward some. "Sweetheart, please what happened."

The world renowned fashion designer nodded her head, sucking in much needed air she told her mother everything. How she was excited to see Lori again and wanted to spend time with her even if she was in the middle of work, there was only so much free time Leni can get, especially visits. To how it all went down from the sudden sight of an Mustang, Linky, Logan, and his wife. All of it.

Then...what Lori did.

Rita sat stunned. "She did what?!" Raising her hands dramatically. "Are you serious, Leni?"

Leni nodded. "She did...she just slapped Linky. Hard, like really hard...it was scary." Leni slightly teared up with a downcast stare when she remembered how Lori turned on and told her to shut up.

Rita covered her face with her hands. "Dammit," She muttered.

Leni tried defending her sister, like she always has done for so long now. "Sh-she didn't mean it mom. She was just angry and-and-and..." Her words died, unable to come up with anything at the moment. She knew best it was dumb to even try and justify Lori's actions. She's scared now this will happen with her other sisters, she didn't want that. That thought will plague her for a time.

Rita shook her head against her palms. "That still doesn't justify her actions, Leni." Removing her hands she sat up. "She's a grown woman, not a child."

As Leni opened her mouth to respond, both women were startled from the ear numbing screeching of tires against the pavement. The frantic slamming of a door and the yelps of a certain man trying and failing at his footing.

Both females eyes widened.

Before they knew it the door slammed open, smacking hard against the already cracked wall, a few photos shook off and fell with glass shattering, but that wasn't important.

"Lynn!" Rita shouted.

Standing there was an aging man, bald at the top but not entirely without hair, panting tiredly, a mad look in his green eyes. White stained apron wrapped around his body, doubling over for air, cursing at his age and body, the Loud patriarch looked up, staring at his wife of so many years he asked one question.

"Where is he?!"

 **~oOo~**

 **Back with the family of three...**

 **Garage...**

"Midnight?" Lincoln questioned out loud. Standing inside the illuminated, somewhat dusty, but empty garage. Empty save for the motorcycle parked in front of the small family. The father tilting his head a bit surprised to see the black and purple streaked bike there, Logan held his mothers hand and jumped with excitement, all the while his wife nodded her head with a happy expression (her version that is) on her face. Walking over to the bike with her son in tow the woman leaned over and felt the bike, the sleek curves, handle and finally seat before her eyes halted on the equally night sky black and dark purple outlined helmet. Lifting it up, trailing a slender finger through each and every scratch and mark that marred the visor, even the stickers of skulls, bats, and heavy metal bands that stuck and overlapped the other.

Midnight Strife. Other words, Haiku's bike.

The question he has is how did it get here, but he probably knew that was a stupid question, and he was right. While Haiku examined her helmet, turning it over a white piece of folded paper fell out the inside.

Blinking, Lincoln bent over and picked it up. Opening it he read what was written.

"Dear, lovely niece, favorite nephew, and..." he frowned, with a heavy sigh. "DUMBASS." In all caps.

Logan pointed a finger at his father, laughing. "Ha!"

Lincoln absentmindedly flicked his boy against his forehead, causing the child to yelp.

Rubbing his forehead Logan pouted at his father. "Jerk."

"Pain." Lincoln retorted. The two Loud males stared the other down...until their lips curled upwards and both exploded in a fit of laughter. Lincoln ruffled his sons grey locks, patting him some as the boy continued to giggle. Haiku just shook her head with a roll of the eyes.

"Anyway...where was I? Ah yeah." Clearing his throat. "Thought I would surprise you, Harriet." She frowned from the use of her real name. "Yes I mean Harriet, it's your name after all and I do what I want." Her eyes narrowed, Lincoln rose his hands. "What don't take it on me, he wrote it." Tapping the paper in emphasis.

He continued "Alright, so I pulled some strings, gave a couple green here and there of good ol' Benjamin to get it shipped over to your new place early. I knew Midnight was still in the shop but I pulled some strings and had some of the boys and girls in RD that owed me some. Is it abuse of power and instruments of the mechanics of Melody? Yes...very much so. But I do what I want." Lincoln shook his head with a smile, Logan got board and walked over to Midnight, trying to get on top of the seat but failing miserably. His mother laughed silently, bending over and lifting her boy, setting him on the bike as he smiled and pulled the handles, pretending to drive. "Either than that, yours truly, Marcus."

Well that answered that.

Suddenly their ears were assaulted by the ringing of the doorbell. Confused, the man with a plan folded the letter, stuffing it in his pocket he made his way back inside the main house, his wife picking up their son and following him.

Curiosity was great as it took over Logan. The boy leaping out of his mothers arms, dashing past his old man and towards the front door, hitting and stumbling against a few boxes here and there.

"Logan, wait." But Lincoln's voice didn't reach his boy, giving up he rushed over to his son who stood by the door.

Placing a hand on his head to calm the child, Lincoln placed a hand on the door knob...and turned.

His eyes widened quick before reverting back. Breath somewhat hitched the man still stood tall, taller than the older man infront of him. Cold blue met shocked green.

Logan stared up at the old man, head tilted the boy couldn't help but be stuck on his big nose. He couldn't help but flinch back by the way the man stared at him with big, wide and clearly petrified eyes. He was getting a lot of that lately and it wasn't going well, let alone fun.

"Who are you?" Logan asked.

The brown haired, balding, greying man could only stutter at the child. "I...th...w-wha..." He looked up at the white haired man.

"Li-Lincoln..."

"Hey dad...been awhile."

 **~oOo~**

 **And that's a wrap!**

 **Yeah, you read right, ending it there.**

 **First I want to apologize for taking so long, but it's done and I tried. Also want to apologize for the way this chapter turns out. Haven't written in awhile so I went at it the best I can.**

 **Anyway!**

 **That's that.**

 **Leave a review and tell me what y'all think.**

 **Hound, out...**


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